The Chameleon
by ValleyA
Summary: Det. James Ellison has flashbacks to his time in Peru, but the memories surrounding those flashbacks seem to be gone. The situation worsens when his forgotten past intrudes upon his present life.
1. Chapter 1

**"The Chameleon"**

**A Sentinel story**

**by Valleya**

**Chapter One**

"Stop, police!" Detective Jim Ellison shouted to his fleeing suspect.

"Anderson's running," Jim said rapidly into the radio mike on his bulletproof vest. He rattled off their location and the direction Anderson was taking, asking to have a patrol car on the lookout for them. "He should come out on Jefferson and Fifth."

"Roger, sending a black-and-white to that location."

Jim was in good shape, but the man he was chasing was faster "I hope he's a sprinter, and not made to the endurance races," Ellison told himself as he scaled a fence his suspect had climbed moments before.

It was nearly evening as the chase began. They ran through a section of Cascade that was mainly filled with immigrants from South America. Jim was distantly aware of the varied aromas coming from the kitchens within the building, recognizing the miscellaneous spices in the meals being prepared for dinner. It took him back to another time in his life, back to when he was in the Army's Special Forces.

Jim's eyes were locked on his suspect, but his mind was transported back eight years. He'd just arrived in Peru as part of a unit assigned to combat the drug lords that practically dictated policy to the Peruvian government in the way of blatant terrorism. So long ago, yet still so clear in his mind.

Jim shook his head to dispel the images as he started gaining on the man he was after. The lanky, blonde suspect leapt up in the air and caught hold of a fire escape ladder. Once there, he scurried up the stairs until he reached the roof, and then he began the trek down the stairs within the apartment building.

Where Jim had a muscular physique, Anderson was slim and wiry. He was fast, but Jim was catching up to him. Ellison poured on the speed as he realized there were potential hostages that his rape suspect could grab as they descended through the stairwells of the apartment building. Anderson didn't have a gun, but he'd already flashed his knife. In fact, the bleeding gash across Jim's forearm was from Anderson's switchblade and Ellison was determined that the man wouldn't get away from him.

He had almost caught up to Anderson when they encountered residents on the stairs, people going about their every day life, but luckily his suspect was too involved in his escape to bother grabbing any of them. Still, Jim knew he had to stop him before innocents were endangered. They were about to reach a group of people on a landing when Jim shouted to Anderson. "Stop right there or I'll shoot!"

Anderson grunted at him as he continued running, never flinching at Ellison's shouted commands. Jim cursed and started running again, but this time he poured on the speed, fine-tuning his body to run most efficiently. The air was full of South American music as they passed by several apartments, hinting at simpler, less demanding lives that the one Ellison was currently living.

They were dashing across the lobby of the apartment building when Jim saw a chair nearby and threw it at Anderson. The wooden chair slid across the lobby's tile floor, catching Anderson in the legs and the man went down hard.

"It's about damned time," Jim muttered as he put a gun to Anderson's head. "Move, you creep, and you're dead."

Anderson wisely didn't move as he whispered, "You've got nothing on me."

Jim grunted breathlessly as he pulled his handcuffs and put them on Anderson. "You've got no idea what we have on you, creep. There's enough to put you away for a very long time. Trust me, the women of Cascade will be safe from you for years to come."

Ellison reached for the radio mike on his vest to call in the troops when a rich, familiar scent caught his attention. Suddenly, he was back in Peru again at a popular café. He was laughing, but in pain at the same time. An injury, he had an injury, from what he couldn't remember.

Jim's senses were zoned out in the past and his lapse in attention wasn't missed by his suspect. The man reared up and slammed into Jim's mid-section, hitting the detective hard enough to knock the air from his lungs, and then he scrambled for Jim's keys. Within seconds, he had unlocked the handcuffs and placed them on Jim. There was nothing Jim could do as he was still doubled over, trying to catch his breath.

The wiry rapist paused for a moment and smiled, and then struck Jim with a heavy crystal vase from a nearby table, spewing water and flowers all around as he swung the vase. Jim went down hard and Anderson sprinted out the front door. Jim tried to follow him, but his limbs just weren't answering the orders his mind was giving.

The last thing Jim heard as he passed out were the very words he'd used himself at the beginning of the chase, "Stop, police!"

And then he finally gave into the beckoning call of unconsciousness knowing his suspect had been captured.

"Jim, are you awake?" he heard Blair's quiet voice calling to him.

Jim forced open eyes that didn't appreciate the brightness in his room and he instantly regretted doing so. He groaned, and slapped a hand over his eyes. "Turn those damned lights off!" he said through gritted teeth.

"Okay, they're out. Sorry about that, Jim," Sandburg said as he turned off the overhead lights.

Jim breathed a sigh of relief and opened his eyes again.

Blair Sandburg was an anthropology graduate student who had discovered the reason behind Jim's heightened senses. Senses that went far beyond what the average person could do. He offered to help Jim learn to control his ability to see, hear, smell, and touch, so that Jim could harness any of the senses at will.

Blair was a handsome young man, but he looked like he was a throwback to the 1960's hippy generation. He had dark, curly hair that was worn long and free while Jim kept his hair shortly cropped as if he was still in the Army. The Army's influence was strong in the way Jim spoke and moved, even after five years with the Cascade police department.

"How are you feeling now?" Blair asked, his face bent closer to Jim's.

"Like I got dropped by a ton of bricks," he muttered, keeping his hand in place to shade his eyes from the dim lighting.

"The doctor said you have a pretty good concussion and that you shouldn't make any fast moves for at least a couple of days. That's probably what made your eyes more sensitive to light. Just try to breathe normally until the pain passes."

Jim groaned again. "You don't have to shout at me either."

"Jim, I'm not shouting."

After a moment, Jim sighed, wanting the focus off of him. "Did they bring in Anderson?"

"Yeah, they got him, but how did he get the drop on you?"

Jim paused, not remembering those details right away. He glanced around the room as he thought. "I'm not sure," he said finally.

Blair put a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay. Anderson's in jail and he's not going anywhere. I just spoke to Simon and he said the DA has an airtight case against him."

"That's great news," Jim said quietly.

He tried to sit up, but couldn't, so Blair took the hand controls and raised the bed until Jim motioned for him to stop him. "What's the matter?"

Ellison stuttered. "It bugs me that I-I still can't remember how Anderson took me down. The last thing I recall was chasing the creep down the stairs of that apartment building."

"Don't force it, Jim. You've had a serious blow to the head. The memories will come back when you're ready for them to."

Ignoring Blair's advice, Jim brought a hand to his temple and felt a lump rising there. No wonder his head was pounding. And he still couldn't shut out the images in his mind. For some reason, his thoughts kept going back to his time in Lima, Peru. _Where the hell is that coming from,_ he wondered.

Jim was aware that Blair was talking to him, but he was too focused on trapping those elusive memories to respond. Again, he was back at that outdoor café in Lima, having lunch with buddies from his unit and sporting a brand-new cast on his right arm. Funny how those images came to him so clearly, but he couldn't remember his last few moments before passing out.

"Jim!"

_Dammit, why is Blair shouting again? _he thought as he turned back to Sandburg.

Jim glared at his partner until he saw the concern etched into the younger man's face. "I'm sorry, Blair, I was caught up in . . . "

"In what?" Blair asked, moving closer to Jim.

"In . . . some memories."

"From when you were chasing Anderson?" Blair asked.

"Yes. No, that's not right. The images came to me after I had apprehended Anderson in the lobby."

"Why then?"

Jim looked up into Sandburg's blue eyes and shrugged. "I don't know, but they were vivid enough to make me zone out and not see Anderson when he made his move against me."

"That strong, huh? What were they about?" Sandburg was in his classic Q&A mode, but Jim wasn't in the mood for it.

"It doesn't matter," Jim snapped, rubbing at his forehead as his irritating headache worsened instead of improving. "What does matter is that I let my suspect overtake me and he would have gotten away if it wasn't for a patrol car on the lookout for me and Anderson! Dammit, I just don't make mistakes like that! What the hell was wrong with me?"

Jim raised both hands to his head as the throbbing increased. He heard a groan slip out, but by then he was in so much pain, he didn't care. A moment later, the pain disappeared as he passed out again.

Jim woke up to find an attractive Hispanic nurse injecting something into his IV.

"What's that?" he asked, still groggy and not completely awake.

"It's something to help you rest," she replied, and Jim picked up on her accent and perfume. The combination was quite enticing, but Jim didn't try to hit on her. He wanted her to stop what she was doing.

"I don't need anything-"

"But you do, Mr. Ellison. Just let the medication do its job."

Jim reached out to catch her arm, but suddenly his limbs felt like dead weights and oblivion claimed him once more.

Ellison was pacing the small expanse of his hospital room when Simon and Blair showed up.

"Jim, should you be walking around?" Simon asked.

Captain Simon Banks was Jim's supervisor at work, and a good friend. Simon was about the same height as Jim, his African American heritage showed strong in his features. He was always impeccably dressed. His passion for cigars was revealed by his telltale scent of cigar smoke.

"Yes, I'm fine. They've taken out my IV. In fact, they should have released me already."

Simon walked closer to Ellison. "You've been unconscious for three days now. I think a little caution from your doctor right now isn't a bad thing."

Jim straightened and faced his police captain. "I'm fine," he repeated.

Blair made a noise and Jim glared at him. "What?"

Sandburg shrugged. "Nothing. Just thinking to myself."

Jim gave Blair a dirty look. "Nothing, huh? Look, this doesn't have to be a conspiracy. I'm fine and I'm ready to go home. I can rest there as well as here, maybe better."

Simon put a hand on Jim's shoulder, taking a moment to examine the dressing on Jim's forearm before directing his attention to Jim. "Well, you may think you're fine, but please humor us. We've spent three sleepless nights here since you passed out the last time."

Jim stared at him in frustration. "Look, I don't know what happened . . . or what caused me to stay under for so long, but I'm fine now and-"

"And ready to go home. Yeah, we know. You've repeated it three times since we arrived."

Jim pulled away from Simon's touch. "I may not be in the best mood, but what I'm saying is true."

"Good, we all acknowledge that as fact, but you still have to stay until the doctor releases you."

"Dammit, Simon, I've got cases pending, work that needs to be done . . . I can't just sit around here!"

Simon's gaze locked onto his. "You can and you will. Consider it a vacation, if you like."

"Vacation? Ah, come on, Simon!"

Blair had been quiet during their exchange, but he stepped up to Jim, looking deep into Jim's eyes. "What else is going on here, Jim? You've been in the hospital enough to know their procedures. There's something else, isn't there?"

Jim cursed and turned away from his friends, looking to the window for solace. He stared at life on the street for a long moment before glancing back to Blair. Blair didn't let him slide out of the question. He moved back in front of Jim. "What is it, Jim? You have to tell me what's going on inside your head."

Jim sighed with sudden fatigue. "I...don't understand what's going on inside my head and that's the problem! My mind is filled with images of Peru. Why now? Why are memories eight year's old popping into my head like it was yesterday?"

He didn't really expect an answer. He was just saying aloud what he'd been thinking when the two arrived. It was the same scene playing over and over with no beginning or end. What could possibly be so important to his mind that it would repeat the same damned thing until he was going crazy?

Blair was talking, but Jim wasn't listening. He was drawn back to that restaurant again. There were six of them there, all buddies from Jim's unit. They were laughing about something while Jim was reading the local newspaper, awkwardly holding it between his good hand and his hand that wore a cast.

The image was so clear to Jim that he could almost read the headlines on the newspaper, but the scene always faded out before he could capture the words themselves. The memory loop began playing again in his head, making Jim dizzy from the repeated scene. Closing his eyes, Jim could hear the music being played at the café and the smell of his meal as it arrived.

Everything was so vivid in detail and yet so sparse in information. Something pulled him away from the memories and he opened his eyes to see Simon and Blair standing right beside him, concern weighing in their every move. That same beautiful nurse was back at his side.

She touched his arm and Jim grunted in pain. "I'm sorry," he heard her say, jerking her hand away quickly. "Must be static electricity."

But Jim wasn't concerned with the pain from her touch, because he was tumbling into a world of the bizarre. All of his heightened senses were scrambled in an instant, pulling his thoughts in a thousand directions at the same time.

He started to say something to the people around him, but collapsed instead. He tried to fight against impending unconsciousness, but failed, so he passed out from the mishmash of jumbled information that was bouncing around inside his head.

Jim moved slowly about the loft, trying to get ready for work, but he still felt weak from his extended stint in the hospital that it left his thoughts jumbled. The doctors couldn't explain the reason behind his collapse, and Blair was driving him crazy with questions and theories. Dammit, he didn't want any of that. He just wanted his life to return to normal again.

Normal? He had to admit his life had become anything but normal since he acquired his sentinel abilities again. Blair said they were a gift, but there were many days where they felt more like a curse. How many times had he wished for them to disappear? He'd lost count. Yet, whenever he called upon them, he was constantly amazed by the things his senses could uncover.

He sighed as he glanced at his watch. It was time to go to work. Going down the stairs, he entered the kitchen. Blair was pouring a cup of coffee and handed it to him. "How are you feeling this morning?"

"About the same as the last ten times you asked," he snapped.

Blair grimaced and backed away. "Boy, did you get up on the wrong side of the bed this morning."

Jim brought the cup to his lips, but stopped and set it back on the counter. "Look, let's get something straight. You are not my doctor, my priest, or my guardian angel. I'm fine and I'm ready to go back to work!"

Blair paused for a moment. "Are you?" he asked softly. "Really?"

Jim glared at him and walked to the coat rack for his jacket. "I'm going to be late if I don't get moving. Are you coming or not?"

He lingered at the front door as he waited for an answer. Blair came up beside him, grabbing his own jacket and opened the door. "Fine, if that's how you want to act, then I can play that game, too."

Sandburg left through the open doorway, leaving Jim to wonder why he was so angry at the world. Maybe it was the images that had haunted him ever since he awakened at the hospital. Hell, he didn't know what was wrong with him, so how could he tell Sandburg what was happening?

Jim slammed the door shut and headed to his truck. Flashes of that memory loop were playing in his mind again, almost obscuring what his eyes were seeing. He was filled with anger and frustration as he tried unsuccessfully to pull away from the past.

By the time he'd climbed into the truck, he was so breathless, he had to stop for a moment before starting the engine. He rested his head on his hands atop the steering wheel and felt Blair touch his shoulder.

"Jim, is it happening again?"

Jim nodded without pulling away from his resting place. He didn't seem able to get enough air into his lungs, and the effect left his skin wet with perspiration and his heart pounding in his chest. Finally, he made himself sit up, but the movement took so much from him.

In frustration, Jim pounded a fist on the steering wheel, but then had to cradle his injured forearm with his other hand as the healing gash ached from the motion. "Damn," he whispered, bending forward again.

After a moment, he heard Blair talking to him, but he didn't bother to listen as the scenes from Peru pulled him back again. Now, instead of the jovial lunch he was sharing with friends, there was a scene of pure pandemonium as he was being pulled away from the table and told to run, but he couldn't. Something was keeping him there, something wouldn't let him flee when everyone around him was running for their lives.

"Dammit, Jim, answer me!" Sandburg shouted loud enough to break the hold the past had created.

Jim jumped, finally noticing Blair's presence again before he dropped his head back against the seat.

"What the hell was going on there, Jim? I thought you were going to pass out on me again."

Jim nodded as he took in great gasps of air, still cradling his injured arm. "I-I was in Peru again, but there was more to the scene this time. Something was happening, but I couldn't see what it was . . . I couldn't breathe, and I couldn't move. Now, all I can remember are the rapid fire flashes of images."

Blair put a hand to his shoulder. "Jim, what you are describing sounds like repressed memories trying to come to the surface."

Jim opened his eyes and stared at Blair. "Do you think that's what is happening here? That it's something from my past that I've buried away like I did with my sentinel abilities?"

"Yeah, it could be. It must be something so terrible that you zone out whenever you think about it . . . even to the point that you pass out. Whatever it is, it's affecting your life in a big way."

"What the hell could it be?" Jim whispered. "And why are the memories trying to break through now?"

"I don't know but we better find out fast."

Jim nodded in agreement before he dropped his head back again. "We'll work on it tonight. For now, I've got to get to work."

"I don't think that would be such a good idea," Blair started. "Why don't you call in sick today? No one would fault you for-"

Jim cut him off. "I've already missed a week of work over this blasted thing. I need to move on with my life!"

"Even if your past wants you back in Peru?" Blair said softly.

Jim pinned him in place with a single glance. "Yeah, even with that. I just can't let memories control my life."

Sandburg shrugged. "Okay, but I think you're making a big mistake."

Jim didn't say a word as he started the truck's engine and pulled into traffic.

TBC in Ch 2


	2. Chapter 2

**"The Chameleon"**

**Chapter Two**

Ellison got through the day on sheer willpower alone. Thankfully, the memory loop remained quiet as he worked through a stack of paperwork. Blair had hung around for a while, but slipped away to have a conversation with Simon.

Jim knew that, because he'd picked up on their discussion without meaning to. There was just something about Blair whispering that always caught his attention. But he didn't do anything to stop the conversation, mostly because the cat was out of the bag and it was too late to stop him. Blair asked Simon to watch over Jim while he went to his office at the university. Moments later, Blair appeared at Jim's desk.

"I've got some papers to grade, so I'm going to head to the campus for a few hours. Will you be okay while I'm gone?" he said, leaning over Jim's desk.

Jim didn't look up from his paperwork. "I should be since Simon will be watching me like a hawk."

Blair recoiled with his comment. "Oh, I guess you heard me talking to him."

"Yeah, I heard you." He glanced up at Blair. "But get this straight, I don't need any babysitters looking over me. I'm-"

"Fine, yeah, I know." Blair's expression turned sad as he backed away a bit. "Jim, I think you do need someone to watch over you right now, but you just can't see it for yourself. Instead, you push people away when you need their help the most. Repressed memories are nothing to fool around with, pal. They are powerful forces that can tear you up inside."

Jim glared at him for a moment before glancing back down to his paperwork again, opting to stonewall his friend and partner, instead of saying something he'd have to apologize for later.

"But that's just my opinion for what it's worth," Blair said softly as he grabbed his jacket and left.

Jim toyed with his pen for a moment, staring into the empty hallway, and regretted his hot temper once again. He would listen to Blair's suggestions when they got back to the apartment that evening, and then he would apologize for the nasty way he'd been behaving.

"How's it going?" Blair asked.

Jim jumped, startled by Blair's sudden appearance. Rubbing the back of his neck, he said, "I guess I'm not paying attention to what's going on around me, chief."

Blair pulled up a chair and scooted closer to him. "Any more of those memories appear?"

Jim sent down his pen and thought for a moment. "No, they haven't. I've been so busy all day I didn't even realize they were gone. Good, I'm ready to move past this."

Sandburg caught his arm above the bandages. "No, Jim, moving past old issues and ignoring them is just the reason why they hit you so hard this week."

Jim locked onto Blair's gaze. "But if I can't remember, isn't it better to let it stay in the past?"

"That's the problem, Jim, it won't stay in the past. Sooner or later, you are going to have to deal with it. Why not do that now, and get it over and done with?"

Ellison pulled away from Blair's hold on his arm. "Because I don't want to, okay?"

Jim's words carried an edge to them that he didn't mean to have, but it was too late. He'd already snapped at Sandburg enough for one day. He sighed and caught Blair before he stood. "Look, why don't I buy us some dinner and you can tell me all about your theories?"

Blair smiled, the hurt feelings gone in an instant. "I've been thinking about using hypnosis as a way to find those lost memories . . . "

Jim stood and grabbed his jacket, but didn't put it on. "Wait a sec, chief. No shop talk until I've had a beer or two," he said with a smirk, "then I'll listen to whatever you want to say."

Blair put up his hands and laughed. "Sorry, sometimes I run away with myself."

They entered the corridor on their way to the elevator when a disheveled old woman crossed their paths. The woman stumbled and Jim caught her before she fell. Jim felt something prick his skin, perhaps a broach or some other piece of jewelry. A moment later, his world turned upside down again.

Blair watched as Jim helped to keep the old woman from falling, ready to help if need be, but then he had to catch Jim as he slumped to the ground. "Whoa, Jim, what's wrong?" he asked in a panicked whisper.

Jim continued to slip from his grasp in a semiconscious state, mumbling words Blair couldn't understand. Turning, Blair shouted to the others in the bullpen, "Hey, I could use a little help here."

He turned back to Jim. The detective was lying on the floor, but he was seeing something in his semiconscious state, instead of the reality of what was happening around him, and he reached up, trying to grab some invisible object at Blair's shoulder, clearly lost in another world as the others rushed to help.

"Is Jim okay?" Captain Taggert asked, reaching them first.

Joel Taggert was an explosives expert, along with serving on the Major Crimes unit that Jim belonged to. He was an older man who had lost a great deal of weight over the past few years, making him look much younger than he had before.

"I don't know. He just keeled over. Better get an ambulance," Blair said as he put a finger to Jim's carotid artery. "Geez, his heart rate is racing faster than I can count!"

Blair glanced down to Jim and saw Jim was still locked in that imaginary world. Whatever he was experiencing, it wasn't pleasant gauging by the agonized expression on Jim's face and his inability to breathe.

Taggert answered him. "Already done. Just sit tight, Jim. Help is on the way."

Blair watched Jim struggle against unknown assailants and slammed a fist to the floor. "Damn, what is going on here?"

Taggert moved aside as Simon rushed out of the bullpen. "What happened, Sandburg?"

"Hell if I know, Captain."

"Well, you're the expert here. If you don't know, Jim's in real trouble," Simon said quietly as he watched the elevator doors open to reveal two paramedics, a man and a woman.

Blair and Simon stepped back to allow the EMTs to work. Neither said a word as they worked to assess Jim's condition. Blair relayed the events leading to Jim's collapse. The information didn't seem to help them much, but soon it didn't matter, they were too involved in stabilizing Ellison's vital signs to care.

Blair bit his lip in helplessness. "Simon, we've got to get to the bottom of Jim's episodes."

Simon only stared at Blair, sharing a moment of worry and concern before his attention returned to Jim. "Let's hope we get a chance to try."

Simon turned around and viewed the crowd that had gathered. "People, let's give the man some privacy. Come on, get back to work. I'll let you know how Jim is when we have more information."

Blair didn't move, mostly because of a growing fear that Jim was in deeper trouble than any of them realized. One of the paramedics began talking to Jim, slapping his face gently as he tried to get his attention. Blair didn't have the heart to tell the man that Jim was beyond any call the paramedic might try.

Jim opened his eyes to see he was back in a darkened hospital room with Blair at his side. "Oh, crap, don't tell me it happened again."

Blair's expression tightened for a moment. "Okay, I won't tell you."

Jim groaned aloud as he tried to sit up.

"Don't, Jim. The doctor said he wanted you flat on your back until they run more tests."

"How long was I out this time?"

Blair's expression wavered before he said, "Two days."

"Two...days? What the hell happened?" Jim wondered aloud as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"We don't know yet. The doctor feels it might be related to your concussion."

There was something in Sandburg's tone that caught Jim's attention. He stared at the younger man, waiting for further explanations. He didn't have to wait long. Blair stood up from his chair, but his focus remained on Jim. "You were fine one moment, and then collapsing to the floor in the next. Was it another flashback?"

Blair was waiting for an explanation now, but Jim didn't have one to give him. "I don't . . . I don't remember."

Blair rushed away from the bed and began to pace. "Man, this is getting way out of hand here! This stuff is threatening your life! We've got to get to the bottom of it and fast!"

Jim nodded in agreement as he forced himself to recall his last few moments before passing out. He had been working all day to relieve some of the backlog of paperwork on his desk and had accomplished a great deal. Blair showed up and they were going to go for dinner. An old woman ran into him . . . and then nothing.

Jim relayed the events to Blair who nodded with each comment from Jim, but he became frustrated when Jim couldn't give him any more information on how he collapsed than he already had.

"Jim, I've mentioned this to you before, but I really think it might help."

"What's that?"

"Hypnosis."

Jim groaned and closed his eyes.

"It's our best chance to unlock those buried memories that are trying to break through. Since they can't, it's starting to affect your health."

Jim shook his head and opened his eyes. "Look, I don't want you rumbling around in my head while I'm off in lala-land," he said finally.

Blair approached him. "No, Jim, it's not like that. You'll still be in control of your actions, but you'll be in a more relaxed mode to accept those buried memories, so that they won't be so intense for you."

Jim stared at Blair in disbelief. "You make it sound like I'm some lunatic who can't control-"

"No, Jim, it's not like that at all. I want to help you help yourself."

Jim took a deep breath and thought about Blair's suggestion. "Okay, chief, I guess I'm in. When do we start?"

"How about right now?"

Jim's blue eyes bulged a bit. "Right now? Don't you have to prepare for it or something like that?"

"No, I'm ready to begin."

Fine, Blair was ready, but he sure wasn't. Ah, what the hell...The worst that could happen would be. He'd pass out again. And the possibility of answers was more compelling than his fears about what might happen.

He nodded his consent to Sandburg who slapped his hands together with relish. "Okay, let's get this show on the road!"

Jim wished he shared his friend's enthusiasm. Blair pulled his chair closer to the bed. "Okay, Jim, I want your try and relax. I'm going to start with a visualization to help you move into a hypnotic state. Close your eyes and focus on my voice. Let everything else fall away and listen to my voice. Now, just imagine you are watching a gentle creek with its water flowing quietly past you. The forest around you is silent except for some birds singing. You decide to get into the creek and let your body float over the water's surface. You are being carried away by the peaceful water, feeling more relaxed than you have felt in a very long time.

"You aren't afraid because you know the creek will take you to a safe place. A place where you can feel one hundred percent at peace. A place where you will find those hidden memories, but they won't scare you this time, because you are so safe and secure where you are.

"Are you there yet, Jim? Are you at that safe place in your mind?"

Jim nodded, aware of Blair but not completely with him. Instead, he was at that safe place that Blair described.

"Okay, Jim, now that you are safe and relaxed, think back to Peru. You mentioned whatever happened to you there occurred eight years ago. Do you remember that time, Jim?"

He nodded again. "Yes, I'm in Lima with my unit."

"Where are you specifically?"

"I'm at a local restaurant with my buddies."

"Who is with you?"

"Kenny, Butch, Joey, Karl, and Jake."

"Do I know these men?"

"Yeah, they're in that picture I have on the entertainment center."

"Oh, yeah, yeah, I remember that photograph. Okay, what are you doing at the restaurant?"

"Waiting for our meal to arrive. I'm reading the newspaper while the guys are talking."

"What are they talking about?"

"Women, what else?"

Sandburg swallowed back his laughter. He blinked a few times, restoring his train of thought. "You're holding a newspaper. Can you see the headlines on the front page?"

"No, not clearly."

"Okay, what happened next?"

"Our meals arrived. I was just putting away the newspaper when-"

"Yes, Jim, what happened?"

Jim struggled. His safe place didn't feel so safe anymore. There was danger there, great danger. People were about to die and he couldn't do anything to save them.

"Grenade!" Jim shouted.

He felt a hand upon his shoulder, but didn't stop. "Run for it! Get out of here now!" he shouted.

He distantly heard Blair's voice. "What is it, Jim? What do you see?"

"Death. It's all around me."

"Can you get far enough away so that you can see without risking your life?"

"No, it's too late for that."

"Why can't you get away?"

"Because something is stopping me there, holding me in place."

"What is that?"

Jim tried to focus on the things happening around him, but that terrible sense of dread and panic descended upon him again, blocking out all he could see, trapping him in a nightmare world of death and destruction around him.

"Run, people! Get the hell out of here!" Jim shouted.

The hand on his shoulder tightened. "It's okay, Jim. You're safe. Pull back to that safe place you had in your mind. The place that the creek delivered you to. You're safe. Everyone is safe again."

"No, they aren't. They're dead! They're all dead!" Instead of calming down, Jim became more agitated.

Blair was shaking him by that point, but Jim was trapped in his past and was unable to return to the present. He was being crushed him under the weight of so many dead, so many killed because of him. The guilt was overwhelming him and he didn't try to fight it any longer.

Simon walked up to Blair as he stood in the doorway to Jim's room, watching a group of doctors and nurses work on Jim. "What the hell . . . " Simon whispered.

Blair turned to him. "We were trying-I was trying some hypnosis on Jim, trying to get to those blocked memories. And-and . . . "

"What happened, Sandburg?"

"Jim didn't want to try it, but I talked him into it. Things were going pretty good until he started shouting. That's when his heart rate doubled and he couldn't breathe. A moment later, he passed out. I called a nurse and it's been downhill ever since then."

Simon stared at the scene and glanced back to Sandburg. "He's going to be okay, isn't he?"

"I wish I knew for sure," Blair whispered, again feeling wave after wave of guilt.

After several tense minutes, the doctor-in-charge, a woman with flaming red hair, turned to Blair and Simon and sighed. "Let's step outside the room to talk."

"How is he, Doctor?" Simon asked as they came to a stop.

"Your friend's situation is precarious. At least until we discover the source for these episodes and are able to keep Jim away from a recurrence. You were there when it happened this time," the doctor looked to Blair, "Did you notice anything unusual?"

Blair licked his lips. "I was trying some hypnosis on him, trying to get to some memories that came to him with his first collapse."

"Hypnosis, huh?" The physician glanced back to Jim's room. "Maybe I should get one of our psychiatrists to stop by-"

"No way, Doc, he won't go for that at all!" Blair said emphatically.

She frowned. "Well, I'll hold off for a bit, but we've got to get to the cause of his physical impairment or he'll be in ICU fighting for his life."

Blair and Simon nodded. The doctor rubbed her forehead. "I've got a few tests to run on him. Maybe they will show something."

"Thanks, Doctor," Blair said, reaching out to shake her hand.

The physician turned and walked down the hallway, leaving Blair and Simon to their inner worries and concern for Jim's situation.

**TBC in Ch 3**


	3. Chapter 3

**"The Chameleon"**

Chapter Three

Anna Cordova pulled off her nurse's uniform and waded it up into a ball.

"What's the matter?" a male voice asked from the doorway.

Anna turned to see a young man eyeing her nearly naked body. She arched her back and sauntered up to him, her dark eyes flashing desire as her hand brushed across her cappuccino-colored skin. "Just getting comfortable, Ramon. Just getting ready for you."

"What are you saying, you are always ready for me," he said with a raffish chuckle.

Anna put a hand to his face, drawing her fingers along his jaw.

"I can hardly stand to be near that scum, Ramon. Knowing Ellison killed Enrique, along with so many others, and the fact that he is still alive is enough to drive me mad."

"But you are working according to the plan. Is he not suffering now?"

Anna dropped her hand to her side and walked away from him.

"Not enough! Not nearly enough after all that he's done. He took Enrique away from me and killed him in the prime of life. Even with Enrique's money and power, it wasn't enough to keep him safe. I was left to waste away in a coma for a year."

She ran her lacquered nails across the young man's chest. "Ramon, you were there, you should know better than most people how I'm feeling. After all, you were one of the civilian casualties, too. I swear if it's the last thing I do, I will kill Ellison for the destruction he left in our lives."

Ramon approached her, circling her waist with his wandering hands. "Just remember the plan is working, Anna, my love. Our enemy will be wishing for death by the time we finish with him."

"Don't tease me, Ramon. You know how thinking of Ellison's death makes me hot."

Ramon smiled, his nearly perfect teeth flashing white against his dark skin. He drew her close. "I'm counting on it."

And then he picked her up, and carried her to his bed.

Anna smiled with a wicked grin. "Is it time for the chameleon to disappear?"

"You do, and I'll be forced to kill you myself," he whispered to her right ear before his lips began to trail down her neck.

"Well, I might be coerced into staying for a while," she whispered, closing her eyes as her body responded to Ramon's ministrations.

"Hmm, I like that idea. Now, be quiet. I'm trying to concentrate here."

She ran her fingers through his thick hair as his lips went lower.

Blair was at his computer, making some notes about all that had happened in the past few weeks, attempting to see something in his notes that he missed in real life. Jim was in a bad way, accentuated by the knowledge he had no way to know when an attack would hit.

The doctors were stumped, which didn't help Jim's mood much. He was home from the hospital again and was currently upstairs sleeping. Blair took advantage of the time alone to make a chart of the attacks that he knew of, listing the memory flashbacks with the time they occurred, and then he did the same thing with the times Jim just passed out, trying to see a pattern of some sort, but nothing made any sense. Nothing at all.

Blair pushed away from his desk and began to pace. There must be something he was missing, some crucial detail he should have seen. Why couldn't he find it? He sighed and picked up a football sitting on the floor by his desk, playing with different grips on the ball as he pondered.

There was no sudden insight to make everything fall into place, so he put down the football and turned back to the computer monitor. His fingers were poised over the keyboard for a long moment before he typed, "I'd like to try hypnosis again, but I'm afraid to suggest it until Jim is stronger."

Blair paused when he sensed he wasn't alone. Spinning around, he found Jim reading over his shoulder. "Dammit, Jim, you know I hate it when you sneak up on me like that! Geez, that stealth sentinel stuff is scary!"

He quickly reached over to turn off the monitor, but Jim caught his arm and pushed him back to his seat. "Too late, Sandburg, I've already read what you typed."

Blair swiped his tongue across his cheek, trying to come up with a story Jim would buy, but one look to Ellison's dark expression told him that idea wasn't going to fly, so honesty was his only option.

"What I wrote is true, Jim. It is too dangerous to try hypnosis again. At least, not until I can know with any type of certainty what your reaction will be in a more controlled environment."

Jim grabbed Blair by his shirt and pulled him up to his face, speaking low, "Dammit, Sandburg, I'm not some lab rat for you to run through a maze. I'm a man trying to find his way through this mess . . . And if you-if you think more hypnosis will help, why aren't we doing it?"

Blair put his hands over Jim's, looking deep into Jim's eyes. "Because I want you to live a long and healthy life."

Jim let go of him, and stumbled away to the sofa, dropping onto the cushions. Jim's sudden burst of strength evaporated and he turned pale. His appearance scared the hell out of Blair. The young man went around to the coffee table and sat on it, so he could face Jim on the couch.

"Jim, maybe we don't have to try to bring those memories up. We might not have to go that far. If we do the same process, but just put you into a relaxed state, maybe you'll be able to glean facts from the flashbacks that you can't when you're in the middle of one of them."

"What are you talking about?"

Blair put a hand on Jim's arm. "Listen to me, Jim, I don't know why I didn't think of it earlier. We can go halfway with your hypnotic state and you will do the rest."

"What if it doesn't work?"

"Then no harm done . . . it's core of the medical creed. Do no harm. But it might be a way for us to get a better understanding of what's going on here and I know I'd feel a hell of a lot better doing it this way than trying to put you all the way under."

Jim's penetrating gaze searched Blair's expression for more answers than he'd just given him, answers that he could understand. Blair felt for Jim, a man who lived for facts and hard evidence; he was now being forced to depend upon more esoteric methods, methods that only confused him.

He nodded. "Okay, Blair, let's just do it."

Blair swiped a hand over his mouth, suddenly not so sure of himself. Who was he to play with Jim's life? When he hesitated, Jim reacted, placing a hand on his arm as he looked up into his friend's face. "Blair, this may be the only way. God only knows I can't live my life like this. We've got to find an edge against whatever's happening with me."

Blair nodded and rubbed his hands together, trying to get into the right frame of mind.

"Yeah, right, right, let's just do it. Um, why don't you lie down on the sofa and get as comfortable as you can? I need to get something to drink before we start. My mouth's way too dry to try to talk you through a narrative."

He started to stand, but Ellison stopped him with a touch. "Easy does it, chief. Take your time. I'm not going anywhere."

Blair nodded and stood, retreating to the kitchen for safe haven. Seeing Jim's courage in the face of his own weakness was a humbling experience. One Blair hoped would he'd never have to experience again. He pulled a bottle from the liquor cabinet and downed a swig without pausing to see what he was drinking. It didn't matter what it was as long as it helped to calm him down enough to help Jim.

After a moment, Blair returned from the kitchen with a glass of water and sat down at the coffee table. "Okay, Jim, I'm ready whenever you are."

"I'm ready, too," Jim said quietly.

"Now don't fall asleep on me."

"I'm with you, chief. No worries here."

_No worries for you, partner_, Blair thought.

"Okay, Jim, take some slow, deep breaths."

Jim obeyed without comment.

"Now, think about that creek again. The water is so inviting you can't stay away from it. Soon, you are floating downstream. You're being carried away to that safe place in your mind again. As you ride the water, you see things along the way that remind you of those flashbacks you've been having. You don't have to leave the water. You don't have to go all the way to that safe place at the end of the creek. All you have to do is use your senses to explain the images you see in your dreams and flashbacks. Do you think you can do that?"

Jim nodded. "Yeah, I think I so."

"Okay, tell me what you see."

"I'm at the café. My friends are with me, and we're waiting for lunch to arrive."

"Do you see anything odd at the table?"

"Just my arm in a cast."

"How did that happen?"

"I can't remember."

"Don't force it, Jim," Blair said with a little too much anxiety in his voice. He cleared his throat and spoke again, "Just relax and look around you. Tell me what else you see."

"I'm reading the newspaper."

"Good, that's good, Jim. What does it say?"

"It's . . . it's got pictures of a raid on Enrique Villanueva's compound."

"Enrique Villanueva? Who is he?"

"A reputed drug lord in Peru who was responsible for countless deaths among the farmers in the countryside when they refused to grow Villanueva's coca plants."

"Is that what the headlines say?"

"No, I know because I was there. I recognized the scenes from the photographs."

"You were there? You mean when the raid went down, you were actually in Villanueva's compound?"

"Yeah, I remember now. That's how I broke my arm . . . in the explosion."

"What explosion?"

Jim didn't answer him, so he repeated the question. "What explosion, Jim? Can you still see it?"

Jim's expression darkened and Blair was surprised to see tears seeping out from Jim's tightly closed eyes.

"Jim?" Blair's heart rate speeded up. "Jim, talk to me, buddy. What's going on?"

Ellison's complexion turned beet red as he battled to breathe.

"Back out of it right now, Jim! Back out!"

Jim's eyes were squeezed shut and Blair fell forward to his knees, clasping Jim's arm. "Jim, you have to listen to me. Listen to my voice. Do you see the creek? Are you still floating in the water?"

Jim's head turned from side to side as he tried to follow Blair's lead. "Come on, man, listen to my voice. You can do this, Jim. You can do this!"

Jim's breathing began to slow down a bit. "That's it, Jim. You're doing it. Now, go back to the creek and when it's safe, you can wake up."

Jim took several deep breaths and finally opened his eyes. Blair collapsed against Jim's arm. "Oh man, you scared me. You scared the living shit out of me!"

"Imagine how I felt," Jim muttered, putting a hand onto Blair's arm. Jim's voice was hoarse, but at least he came out of it pretty fast.

"Okay, let's take a moment to regroup here. Take a few more deep breaths before you try to talk." Blair waited a few minutes before he asked, "Do you remember anything else about what you saw?"

Jim moved to sit up, but Blair held him down. "No, not yet, Superman. Not until I'm sure you're okay. Now, talk to me."

"I'm fine."

Blair laughed and closed his eyes. "Yeah, I know you're fine, man, but I want you to wait a few more minutes before you sit up, okay?"

Jim sighed, but stayed in place. Blair reached for his glass of water, but then held it out to Jim. "Thirsty?"

"No, thanks."

Blair took a long sip of the water and set it back down on the table. "What else can you tell me about what you saw?"

"Not a whole lot. I was sitting at the restaurant, waiting for my lunch and reading the newspaper. It was filled with articles about Villanueva's death."

"How did you feel as you read about it?"

"How did I feel?"

"Yeah, yeah, how did you feel about the articles in the paper? I mean, you were there, man. Did everything happen the way the newspaper said? Were they true to the events or did they screw it up?"

Jim swallowed, and his eyelids drifted closed. "It turned my stomach to read about it. So many were killed on both sides in that botched raid. We were only supposed to snatch Enrique and get the hell out of there, but things went crazy. Our intell was dead wrong. There were three times as many guards on the premises than we were told to expect. Not just that, but there were civilian casualties."

"Jim, this is a breakthrough! You're finally talking about it, remembering more about what happened without it affecting you."

"Oh, it affected me. Trust me on that one, chief, it affected me."

Blair stopped and looked at Jim more closely. "Are you talking about back then or now?"

Jim didn't answer Blair's question, instead he sighed and said, "I'm really tired. I just want

to go to sleep."

Blair nearly groaned with frustration, mostly because they were so close to finding some real answers, but he kept silent for Jim's sake. He didn't want to put too much on him all at once. "Sure, Jim, sure. Just lie back and close your eyes."

Blair reached for a blanket over the top of the sofa and covered Jim with it.

"No, I can go to my bed."

"Just rest here for a while, Jim. You can go up to bed later."

Jim looked like he was going to argue the point, but then closed his eyes. Blair stood, picking up his glass. He muted the lights and glanced around, wandering aimlessly at first before he sat at his desk again. God, what was going on inside Jim's head? What could he be suppressing that was important enough to endanger his life? And if they were on the right track, would the next step be too much for him? Should he push Jim any harder?

One hand clenched into a fist and he growled as quietly as he could, trying to release some of his frustration. He looked at the glass of water he was holding and finished it in one long gulp. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

What was the next step he should take? His gaze darted around the room until it came to a stop at the kitchen. _I need to get a drink, maybe a beer this time._

He glanced down at the empty glass in his hand. _Or maybe I'll just get some more water. I need to be on my toes just in case Jim needs me during the night._

So Blair headed toward the kitchen with heavy shoulders, but he knew in his heart the water he was after wouldn't come close to alleviating the load he was carrying.

9


	4. Chapter 4

**"The Chameleon"**

Chapter Four

The next day, Jim was to meet Simon at a Thai restaurant for lunch. He didn't even make any noises about going back to work. There were too many unknowns affecting both Jim and his health, and until he knew what was happening, it would be best for all if he stayed home.

As Jim left his apartment, he inhaled the scent of a beautiful day. It was good to be alive, even with everything that was going on. The restaurant wasn't far and he opted to walk the distance.

He was seated at a table of the ornately decorated restaurant, and the aroma of the house's specialty dishes caused his stomach to growl with hunger. He was waiting for Simon when a fair-haired woman sat down at a table next to him. She was tastefully dressed in a gray suit with a cream-colored silk blouse. Her makeup and jewelry were simple, yet elegant.

She smiled and Jim returned with one of his own. The waitress interrupted their mutual appreciation interlude and brought him some menus, asking if he wanted to order anything before his friend arrived.

"No, I'll wait, but thanks."

She nodded and went on to the next table. Jim felt the gaze of a stranger staring at him. He glanced back in the blonde's direction and found her watching him. He detected a change in her expression that shifted back into a warm smile. She tipped her glass toward him and Jim returned the gesture.

It felt good to be flirting with a beautiful woman after the drama of the past few weeks. Jim subtly sniffed the air, catching a whiff of her perfume, thinking he knew that scent from somewhere in the last few weeks.

As he tried to place it, she opened her menu. The waitress swung by again and Jim's new acquaintance placed her order. "Where are your restrooms?" she asked when she was done.

Jim caught a Southern drawl to her speech. The waitress pointed in the direction of the posted sign and left. The blonde stood and headed that way when she turned her ankle. She fell forward, landing in Jim's lap.

She laughed with surprise and gazed into Jim's baby blue eyes. "Well, this is certainly embarrassing," she said softly but didn't rise from the table.

"Not for me," Jim replied with a smile, and then he paused. "Your perfume . . . it smells wonderful. What is the scent?"

"Poison, by Christian Dior."

"It's enticing," Jim said, taking a deep breath.

She stood finally. "I apologize for landing in your lap."

"Anytime," Jim replied, pouring on charm.

"Thank you for being so gracious, kind sir." Her hand grazed his bare arm. Jim grimaced and she pulled her hand away.

"I'm sorry. Did I scratch you with my nails?"

Jim waved her off just as Simon caught his eye. "It was nothing. Really."

"I apologize once again," she said as she headed to the bathroom.

"Who was that, Jim?" Simon asked as he approached the table. "She's a knockout."

Jim shrugged. He was feeling dizzy again and had to clasp the table with both hands to keep from falling out of his chair.

Simon opened his menu. "I don't know about you, but I'm starved."

Jim wanted to say something to Simon to let him know that it was happening again, but couldn't. Jim tried to take slow deep breaths like Blair had him do the night before, but his heart was racing and his breathing was erratic. What was worse, the room shifted and shimmered in his vision, acquiring bizarre new colors and shapes.

"Jim?"

He felt Simon shaking his arm, but he couldn't do anything about it. He was trapped in that damned scene at the café again, losing all track of his surroundings as he dropped to the floor.

"Damn," he whispered before darkness enveloped him again.

Jim awoke just as his doctor was examining him. "Well, Detective Ellison, I'm glad you could join us."

He recognized his doctor, Virginia Mitchelson, and then saw Simon and Blair standing behind her. She was an older woman with an honest, practical approach to medicine, but today she looked . . . disturbed.

"Doc, what's going on here?"

"Those tests I ran a couple of days ago show you've been exposed to a hallucinogen similar to LSD."

Jim's mouth dropped open, his shock preventing any words from coming out, but Simon didn't have any trouble speaking, "LSD? How did that happen?"

Michelson looked to Jim. "Perhaps he can tell us."

Jim shook his head as he stammered. "I have no frigging idea. I was meeting Simon for lunch and feeling better than I have for days."

Her voice was quiet as she said, "It got into your system somehow, Detective."

Jim's mouth dropped open again. The doctor's diagnosis really knocked him for a loop. "I-I can't remember anything, except waiting for Simon to arrive."

Simon stepped closer. "Jim, you were talking to a woman just as I came in."

Jim looked at Simon in bewilderment. "I was? Why can't I remember her?"

Blair interrupted. "LSD can cause short-term amnesia and flashbacks . . . "

Jim's gaze darted around the room. "But . . . but that would mean I've been drugged several times since this shit started."

"It would explain why we couldn't discern any typical pattern in your attacks," Blair said.

Jim swallowed as Simon jumped in. "Doctor, you're aware of Jim's job as a police detective. This could be a case of someone seeking revenge against him. Or maybe someone who has a grudge to settle. How would they be able to get the drug into his system?"

The doctor rubbed the back of her neck, her long red hair rolled into a bun that day. "Well, this particular variation can be given by mouth or injected, but the dose required to cause the level of intoxication Jim has shown would be large . . . It's not something that could be easily ignored." Michellson still looked like she wasn't completely buying into the revenge theory.

"Come on, Doc, you know me. I've been seeing you for a few years now. Do you honestly think I would be involved with something like LSD?"

Before she could answer him, Blair stepped forward. "Remember that Jim is extremely sensitive to medication. What if it's just a very small dose, but Jim's body reacts as if it was an overdose? Isn't that possible?"

The doctor grimaced, pausing in thought. As she pondered, Jim put a hand over the scratch on his arm. It would be impossible for anyone else to see it, but Jim could and the area was still tender.

Something clicked for Jim. "Could it be given as a scratch to the skin? You know, like that man was killed in London years ago with a needle concealed at the end of an umbrella?"

"You're talking about clandestine operations. I don't think that's involv-"

"I remember reading a book once where the murderer would kill using something sharp like a pin that had been dipped in poison and was hidden in a ring . . . " he said as his mind raced ahead, thinking of the various encounters he'd had lately where a person caused him pain with a simple touch, and then he fell victim to an attack.

Jim had the room's undivided attention, and he kept a hand over the sore place in his arm. "Is that possible?"

The doctor hedged for a moment before nodding. "I suppose it's possible, but-"

"A woman. There was always a woman around when I'd have an episode that put me out of it for days. I can even remember her perfume. She said it was something called Poison."

"Who is 'she'?" Simon asked.

"The woman at the restaurant, Simon. I remember her now. She told me that right before I passed out. And I can remember detecting that same scent a couple times in the last week."

"Oh my God," Sandburg whispered.

Simon turned to the speechless doctor. "I'm posting a guard at Jim's door. I want all personnel coming into see Jim to have the proper documentation or else they aren't coming in."

She nodded in agreement. "That can be arranged."

She paused, looking Jim straight in the eye. "I was beginning to suspect illicit drugs were involved. My apologies."

Jim shook his head. "It's understandable given the circumstances. I'm just relieved that we are finally getting to the bottom of this. I was beginning to think I was losing my mind."

"Well, I'll leave you in the safety of your friends and make the necessary arrangements with the staff."

"Thanks again, Doc," Jim said as she paused in the doorway.

"This may be one for the medical journals," Michelson said before entering the hallway and disappearing from sight.

"If you only knew the whole story, Doc," Jim muttered, shaking his head.

"Jim, I want you to make a list of possible suspects who might be able to pull this off. Think back over your cases since joining the department. I'll have Taggert go over your old case files, looking for likely candidates. This isn't the typical M.O. for a person seeking revenge. They should stand out like a Roman candle."

Blair nodded. "You're right, Simon. Whoever this person is . . . she wanted Jim to suffer or she would have killed him right off the bat. The average person injected with the type of doses the doctor was talking about would only experience mild symptoms . . . loss of attention, low grade hallucinations, that kind of thing. Maybe enough to impair their ability to do their job, but I don't think they were planning on Jim's violent reaction to the drugs."

"If that's the case, why didn't they ease off on the dose?" Simon asked.

Jim listened to them brainstorm about his possible stalker, his mind still numb with the revelation of drugs in his system. Blair answered Simon. "Maybe she's really sick and decided she liked Jim's life-threatening situations. Who can know for sure except the stalker herself? All I know is we have to keep her away from Jim at all costs."

He looked to Jim, spurring him to come out of his trance-like state. "It makes a lot of sense, Simon, but I just can't think of any of my old cases that would have someone able to organize something of this magnitude."

"Don't worry about it right now, Jim. Give yourself some time to absorb all of this information," Blair said.

"I've got to head back to the station, but I'll call ahead and order a uniformed officer to come over."

Jim nodded, still stunned by their discovery.

"Are you okay, Jim?" Simon said, moving closer to Jim.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Go do what you have to do and we'll do the same here."

Simon nodded and left. Jim let his mind wander as he tried to process his feelings. His head dropped back to the bed and he sighed. "If it was drugs, Blair, why did I have those episodes whenever I tried to think back to Peru?"

Blair bounced on the balls of his feet for a moment. "We might have two separate issues going on at the same time here. Your body was already weakened by repeated exposure to the drug and maybe it left you more open to physical reactions when it came to remembering painful experiences."

Jim frowned and shifted in his bed. "I just wish I knew for sure the problem is related to suppressed memories. So far, there's just a jumbled mess of images."

Blair shook his head and sat on the edge of Jim's bed. "Remember last night? There were memories there that didn't immediately come to the surface. I was watching your face as you tried to fight the memories. Something's there and I still think you have to face it in order to move on."

Jim put a hand over his eyes. "One emergency at a time please," he murmured.

"Fair enough," Blair said. "Why don't you try to rest for a while? I'll stay here until the uniformed cop arrives for guard duty.

"Guard duty . . . Now that's a role reversal if I ever saw one."

"Don't complain, Jim. At last, we're onto something solid. Simon will get to the bottom of it one way or another."

Jim nodded and let his hand drop to his side. His mind wanted to dive into the investigation with both feet, but his body was agreeing with Sandburg. He needed to rest before he'd be any good to anyone. "You're the boss, chief," he whispered.

He took a couple of slow, deep breaths and was out before he realized it.

Jim woke up in a cold sweat. A nightmare centered around his time in Lima had startled him awake. Glancing around the room, he saw Sandburg was gone and the guard was sitting in a chair outside his door.

Rubbing a hand over his face, he tried to steady his breathing. An old friend, Kenny McCormack, floated to the forefront of his thoughts, his strawberry blonde hair accentuating his freckled face. He was Jim's second-in-command at the Lima posting. If anyone would know what had happened to him back then, Kenny would know.

Jim reached for the phone, but had to grab hold of the bed rail when the room started spinning with his movement. He had to admit he wasn't completely past the latest drug overdose, but it wasn't going to keep him from calling Kenny.

A few minutes later, Kenny had agreed to come see him at the hospital. Jim hung up the phone with a certain sense of trepidation. Maybe he should call Sandburg and let him know what he was doing. He quickly tossed aside that notion. All he would be doing was talking

to an old friend who might be able to offer some information about a blank spot in Jim's memory. There was nothing dangerous with that.

He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the past wash over him again, hoping it would carry him away on that creek Blair had described, but he cautiously held back from allowing the water to take him too far. He had a feeling that would happen soon enough on its own.

10

**Chapter 4**


	5. Chapter 5

**"The Chameleon"**

**Chapter Five**

"Jim?" he heard his name called quietly.

Opening his eyes, he found Kenny McCormack beside his bed. "Ah, Kenny, it's great to see you again. It's been way too long. Thanks for coming."

Kenny shook Jim's hand and smiled broadly. His old friend had put on a few pounds in the years since he'd seen him last. The added weight softened his angular face. "I agree. What has it been? Five years?"

"Something like that."

Kenny sat down and took a deep breath. "But you didn't invite me here for a visit. You sounded pretty grim on the phone and now I know why. That's quite a bruise on your forehead."

Jim gave him a slight smile. "That's not the reason I'm stuck in here right now, but you are right about one thing. You're one of a very few who can help me right now," Jim explained, not wanting to delve into the stalker component of his hospitalization.

"So, pray tell, what can I help you with, Captain?"

"It's about the time we served together in Lima."

Kenny's gaze became more penetrating. "Lima? That was a long time ago."

"Yeah, but I've been having flashbacks to that time. You know, the mission to snatch Villanueva."

"Ah, that one," Kenny replied as he brushed at his pant leg. "How do I come into this?"

"Well, I'm having trouble remembering exactly what happened . . . almost like I've blocked it from my memory."

Kenny stopped playing with his pants' leg and turned his full attention to Jim. He let out a long breath and leaned forward. "It's not surprising, Jimmy, with everything that happened there within a week's time."

Jim felt his breath catch. He was about to find out everything that had happened and that thought scared the hell out of him.

"Tell me about it, Kenny. Tell me as if I am an outsider and have never been there."

Kenny rolled his neck and settled into a more comfortable position. "Well, we were assigned to pick up Villanueva and bring him in for arrest and interrogation. Everything was cooking along, but right after we arrived there, we realized the place was filled with many more guards than we'd been briefed on. The brass had given us orders to not come back without Enrique, but when you saw the overmatched security force there, you radioed them and explained our situation."

He took a deep breath. "The powers that be wouldn't listen to your request for more troops or let you abort the mission. The clock was ticking. There was to be a huge international conference in Lima a few days later, and General Culberson wanted to make sure Villanueva was in custody before then, so we were ordered to continue with the raid. Hey, we were just the grunts, you know?

"We made it to Enrique's main complex without detection, but that didn't last long. Hell, it went to pieces like a shattered mirror. We were separated from each other. You found Villanueva, but the man was armed and a gun fight broke out. We could hear the shooting, but couldn't help because we were pinned down as well.

"There was a loud explosion and by the time we could reach you, you were unconscious with a compound fracture of your arm among other injuries. We called the brass for more support and eventually got you to the hospital. When we went through the rubble, we found Enrique's body, along with his daughter, Marissa. His mistress, Anna, was badly injured and wound up in a coma for a while."

Kenny shifted in his chair. "Does any of that sound familiar?"

Jim nodded. The typical symptoms he'd felt in the past few weeks were there, but were much reduced in severity. "Yeah, Kenny, it does. As you were talking, more images came back to me. It was pretty much like you described," Jim paused before asking, "How many were killed during the raid at the compound?"

Kenny frowned and ducked his head. "Two of our men and fourteen people on the compound, including Enrique."

Something nagged at Jim and he realized what it was. "Were-were there any children killed?"

Kenny's face contorted into a grimace. "Yeah, there was. About half of the deaths were children, including Enrique's daughter."

"Oh God," Jim whispered, his breath hitching in his chest.

"Jimmy, it was a very long time ago."

"Not to me." Jim put a hand to his temple. He had a pounding headache that was only getting worse.

Kenny stood and walked to the end of Jim's bed before he turned back to face him. "It was the death of those kids that hit you the hardest back then."

"I keep getting flashes of an outdoor café . . . Does that mean anything to you?"

Kenny's strong reaction unsettled Jim. "How could I forget? I thought both of us were goners."

Jim searched Kenny's green eyes for more clues, but he was forced to wait for the words themselves. "It was six or seven days later. We were at the café with the gang. We'd placed our order and were shooting the breeze as we waited for the chow. All of a sudden, I heard a rattling noise under our table. When I looked down, I saw two live grenades with the pins pulled. I shouted grenade, and pulled your arm to get you to move.

"You just weren't yourself that day, still hurting from the explosion at Enrique's, the death of those kids, and the grilling you got from our superiors on what went wrong with the mission. You were pretty much walking around in a fog. I tried to get you to talk about it, but you were tightlipped as usual.

"Anyway, you wouldn't run and I couldn't leave you there. You turned and looked out into the street. When I followed your gaze, we both saw Villanueva's kid just standing there filled with hatred. I pulled your arm again to get you to run, but you said something like I've got to save the kid.

"I knew it was hopeless to try and save him, so I decked you with a sucker punch and Jake helped me carry you away. We got about ten to fifteen feet away and the blast lifted us up and threw us down the block. The kid bought it with the explosion. You had to stay in the hospital for a few more days for observation and tests. That's about it."

"Was anyone else killed in the blast?" Jim asked hesitantly.

Kenny squirmed for a moment. "Yeah, there were others who couldn't get away in time or were just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"How many?" Jim asked, knowing his expression revealed only a portion of the turmoil he felt inside.

"Ah, Jimmy, why put yourself through this? It's ancient history."

Ellison shook his head. "Because I need to know. Now, how many died in that blast?"

Kenny's gaze was directed at the floor and he finally answered, "About a dozen. The place was packed."

"A dozen more dead . . . because of me?"

Kenny was on his feet and at Jim's side in an instant. "No, Jimmy, because of him! It was Enrique Junior's fault. He was after all of us and almost succeeded."

Jim shook his head sadly. "But you weren't the one who killed his father."

Kenny put his hands in his pockets. "You can't know that the kid knew that."

Jim looked up at him. "You didn't see the look in that boy's eyes. I did. He knew it was me and he was willing to sacrifice his life to kill me."

Kenny glanced at him briefly before walking around the room. "I'm not going to argue that point with you. We'd be here all day if I did. That boy died in the blast, but I have to say that you shouldn't feel guilty about any of what happened. We did our jobs. There were just too many unknown factors in play that adversely affected the mission."

"And what about the café?"

"Well, the café . . . the café was also full of unknowns. I mean, how were we supposed to know Enrique's kid would try some foolhardy stunt like that? It was just one of those terrible things that happened in the course of life."

Jim mulled over his words, but didn't say anything. He heard the clatter of high heels and the scent of perfume. He stiffened as he realized the woman who had drugged him was approaching. As he glanced out the door, she passed by slowly enough to get a good look at Jim.

Her expression revealed shock as she recognized McCormack and then kept walking away. Jim shouted for the cop at the door, a stout man with curly hair and a bulldog attitude when it came to capturing crooks. "Andy, that's her! That's the woman who drugged me! Grab her!"

Andy Torres took off after her as Jim struggled to get out of bed. He nearly fell out, but Kenny caught him and pulled him back to safety. "Hold up there, Jimmy. I don't think you're up to chasing people down the hallways. Besides, you've been holding out on me. What's this about being drugged?"

Jim shifted to look around Kenny, but the hallway was still clear. There weren't any lingering signs that a police chase was under way. Ignoring Kenny, Jim reached for the phone just as Jim's regular RN appeared at his door.

"Is everything okay in here?" she asked breathlessly. Her scrubs were of a pale green background was filled with cheerful puppies bouncing around. It reflected a much different attitude than the prevailing mood of alarm in Jim's room right then.

Kenny looked to Jim and back at her. Jim had the phone between his ear and shoulder as he waited on hold. "Yeah, we're okay, but I'm calling in for backup for Torres."

The middle-aged nurse looked both scared and confused, as did Kenny. Jim made his call as quickly as possible and hung up. "Can you see anything?" he asked the nurse still lingering at the door.

She turned, looking down the hallway. "No, nothing."

"You better get hospital security up here," Jim said. He chewed on the inside of his lower lip for a moment. "I have a feeling this thing isn't over yet. Not by a longshot."

"They just found Torres' body," Simon said with a heavy sigh.

"Damn!" Jim cursed. He had a feeling they'd find a body sooner or later. Torres never returned or even called in. The optimists in the group were holding out for a hostage situation, but not Jim. He was getting a better sense of the woman who had been stalking him.

Kenny had left shortly after Jim's room became filled with hospital security and police staff. He promised to call Jim later. Jim glanced over to Simon and the man looked fit to be tied with the confirmation of Torres' death.

"Jim, we've got to find this woman. I've got a police artist coming over. Maybe between you, Blair, and myself, we can get a very good sketch of her to put out on the wires."

Jim didn't say anything. He was too much inside his thoughts to respond. He had a nagging feeling he knew the woman from somewhere in his past, but he couldn't remember where. And knowing Simon's disposition at the moment, he didn't need to hear about Jim's suspicions.

Blair walked into the room. He stopped in his tracks when he saw everyone. "Wh-what's going on?"

"Andy Torres is dead," Jim said quietly.

Sandburg's head popped around, looking at the empty chair in the hallway. "Oh God."

"Yeah, but we know who killed him. Well, we don't have a name, but she's been in my hospital room at least twice that I can remember in the course of the last few weeks."

"Who's that?" Blair looked like he was trying to catch up with everyone else, but was failing.

Simon said, "A nurse. That position would give her countless opportunities to drug Jim."

"Yeah, but what about the other times when Jim wasn't at the hospital? And why would a nurse be putting Jim through hell?"

Simon straightened his shoulders. "Because she wasn't really a nurse. At least not one in this hospital. The personnel supervisor has already been here."

"Not a nurse, but a woman with numerous disguises . . . "

Jim nodded. He was beyond tired now that the adrenaline rush had passed.

"Well, if we've all met her, that's a plus for our side. We know what she looks like. It's only a matter of time before you find her."

Simon agreed, but didn't look very enthusiastic about it. Jim understood why. Just knowing what a suspect looked like didn't mean it would be an easy arrest. She'd probably go into hiding now.

Jim's nurse came to the door and was stopped by a new man guarding the entrance. She showed him her credentials and was allowed to enter. "Mr. Ellison, I realize that a crime has taken place and a policeman is dead, but you are in the hospital for a reason. That reason does not allow for this type of stress. I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask everyone to leave."

Jim started to protest, but Simon stopped him. "There's nothing more we can do here, Jim. We'll head back to the precinct and I'll keep you updated."

Jim frowned and shook his head, but the nurse stepped in. "Thank you, sir."

She assumed a position by the door, waiting for the unwelcomed occupants to leave.

Jim turned to Simon. "You don't have to go."

"It's time for us to leave and you know it. You just won't admit it."

Jim's head dropped back to his pillow. "Well, if you are all going to gang up on me, I don't have much of a choice. But you better keep me informed or I'll go into work myself to find out what's happening."

"No need for threats, Ellison," Simon said softly. "I'll talk to you soon."

A moment later, it was just Jim and the nurse, and then she left the room after giving him some medication. "You get some sleep, Detective, and consider that an order."

Yeah, right, like he could really sleep after that. He closed his eyes and shook his head. He had to admit he was pretty tired, but still . . .

Jim started snoring shortly after that thought.

7


	6. Chapter 6

**"The Chameleon"**

**Chapter Six**

Jim was in a light sleep when he felt something prick his arm. He jumped, and his senses told him he was no longer in the hospital. The air smelled different, musty and damp. And he was chilled, his bare skin rippling with the cold air, causing goose bumps to spring up across his arms and chest.

Shifting, he moved to stand more squarely on his feet when his shoulders sent screaming alarms of pain racing through his body. He groaned from the sudden effect and raised his head. Glancing upward, Jim knew why his shoulders caused such pain. He was hanging with his hands bound and hanging from a hook in the ceiling. The sparse length of the rope barely allowed him to stand on his feet without being on his toes. His upright arms had been supporting his weight for God only knew how long.

"Oh, I'm glad you decided to awaken," a woman whispered into his ear, her Peruvian accent ringing with disgust and Jim recognized the voice in an instant.

He looked around the darkened room, but he didn't see anything that told him where he was, except that the room was a mess, as if someone vacated the place without worrying about getting their cleaning deposit back. "Where are we?"

The unknown killer smiled a cold smile. "In your tomb."

Jim showed no outward change, but inside his thoughts swirled like the back draft of a jet engine. When had she kidnapped him from the hospital? How long had he been out? His mind felt like day old oatmeal, thick and gooey. He shook his head to clarify his thinking, but the motion did nothing to help.

It did thrill his captor though. She chuckled without mercy. "Still disoriented? Do not

worry, I plan on keeping you off balance until I take your life, but you will suffer for days until then and it will seem like an eternity."

"You're going to get caught," Jim said as he felt the first hints of drug taking control of his mind.

"No, I'm going to kill you," she said, dragging a long fingernail down his cheek, "Just like my partner killed the guard outside your door last night."

Jim's attention was riveted on her. "What?"

He was started to gasp for air, but tried to stay alert enough to talk to her and find out the reason for her hatred of him. She smiled, but there was malice in her eyes. "He would have been . . . a bothersome hindrance to our plan, so my accomplice took care of him, and then we took you out of the hospital in a wheelchair."

"Damn," Jim uttered as the appearance of the room started to change around him, interfering with the guilt and grief that came with her announcement.

The woman laughed and Jim could smell her perfume waft over him. It seemed like the drug pushed his hyperactive senses up into yet another level of sensitivity. Maybe if he could scale back his senses, he could stay alert and not pass out. Tuning out as much as he could, Jim focused on her alone.

She was speaking to him again. "That is hard for you, is it not? Knowing others are dead because they were trying to defend you. Typical American boy scout mentality. But it is a pattern in your life."

Jim licked his lips and turned his head in her direction. He couldn't actually see her with the drug coursing through his system. It obscured his vision with a kaleidoscope of colors and shapes, but Jim knew she was still standing beside him.

"What do you mean?"

"You are actually able to have a conversation with me? Well, this is very interesting, boy scout. Very interesting. I was speaking of being responsible for the death of innocents around you. Like those at Enrique's mansion. Like those at the café in Lima. And probably countless people between that time and now."

Jim's head popped up. "Enrique? Enrique Villanueva?"

"So you remember. I am glad you do, because it will be the reason for your death!" She slapped him hard on the face.

The pain of her blow helped to keep him coherent, and gave him focus. Suddenly, his senses were back within his control again. He pulled on the rope, hoping to find a weakness in it that would free him, but it remained strong. His overtaxed wrists throbbed with the effort. What little he could see revealed the skin around his wrists was red and puffed above and below where his hands were bound together by the coarse rope.

Jim shivered again and realized he was only wearing the thin pajama bottoms the hospital had given him. He bit his lip as he decided he would let her think he was out of it, so he played up his symptoms as much as possible and let her talk. His head dropped forward and he moved his lips as if he was hallucinating again.

"You ruined my life! And the lives of many others. We cannot allow you to live while Enrique is dead." She hit Jim again with a blow to his diaphragm. His breathing problems intensified, but he was determined to stay with her.

"I don't know . . . what you mean," Jim said through gasping breaths. Part of him was role-playing, but another part was definitely succumbing to the influences of the drug.

"James Ellison, you have been tried by our court and you will be executed when the time is right. But not tonight. I've already killed three times in your name today and that is enough for now."

Three times? The words echoed through his disjointed thoughts. Who else did she kill besides Torres and Caldwell? Before he could consider the mystery, his head snapped to one side as she gave him another vicious slap. He opened his eyes and glared at her, only to see her holding something up in front of his eyes.

It was a wallet. A man's wallet. His vision was too affected to read the name or even see the picture ID, but he knew in his gut who it had belonged to. Kenny McCormack. He wrestled with his ropes, pulling at fibers that dug into irritated skin. "What have you done?" he asked, his words filled with venom.

She chuckled. "Why, I've killed your old Army buddy. After all, he was an accomplice to your murdering ways."

Jim squeezed his eyes shut, grieving for McCormack and regretting the fact that he'd been the one to bring Kenny into this mess. And with his lapse in focus, the drug's effects descended upon him with full force. He felt like he was gliding through the air like a hawk soaring on a thermal updraft, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

He was distantly aware of her grabbing his chin and squeezing hard, and then her voice echoed inside his head, sending him on a frightening psychedelic roller-coaster ride. "I'm not done killing yet. You took people away from me. I've taken people away from you, and soon I will kill you, but you won't die a simple death. You are a strong man, I will give you that. In fact, I hope you fight us every step of the way. It will make things so much better that way."

Jim swallowed hard, trying to reacquire the control he'd held before, but his momentum had been lost and so was he, lost in a distorted world where anything could happen and he had no control over what did occur.

In his drug-induced haze, something clicked and Jim suddenly knew who had kidnapped him. It was a ghost from his past. Anna Cordova, Enrique Villanueva's mistress and second-in-command. "I know who you are, Anna," he said through clenched teeth.

"I see your detective skills are still functioning even if your body is not. I am glad you know who I am because it will be even more satisfying this way."

She laughed again and her laughter resounded in his head, almost drove him to madness with its incessant ring. He was filled with fear and dread, blending with his guilt of three lives lost for nothing. The overall effect sent him plummeting into the abyss, and thankfully he passed out.

Blair was asleep on the sofa when the insistent ringing of the phone woke him up. Grumbling, he sat up, looking around for the telephone and found it on the coffee table. "Damn, I just fell asleep."

He rubbed his face and looked at his watch again. "Three in the morning. This is not good news. Nothing good calls at three A.M.."

He caught the call before its next ring. "Sandburg," he said curtly.

"Blair, it's Simon."

"What's happened?" Blair asked in a rush.

"Jim's gone from his hospital room. They can't find him anywhere on the hospital grounds."

Blair swallowed hard and put on his glasses as if they would clear the cobwebs from sleep and make him more alert. Simon continued, "And Carl Caldwell was found dead in a supply room."

Sandburg rubbed a hand over his face and cursed under his breath. "She's got Jim."

"That's the only possible conclusion. I've upgraded the APB for her to include the kidnaping of a police officer and sent it out to all of the law enforcement agencies."

"What do we do now?"

There was a pause on the telephone. "Wait. And pray that someone somewhere comes across the bulletin and contacts us with information."

"God, Simon, isn't there someth-"

"No, Sandburg, there's nothing else to be done at the moment. I'm sorry I had to awaken you, but I knew you'd want to know."

Blair responded with some off-the-cuff comments before saying good-bye, but they were only words to Blair and words didn't equal the fist in his gut that was squeezing his insides. He wandered aimlessly around the living room until his gaze paused on a picture Jim had displayed on his entertainment center.

Blair recognized Kenny McCormack first, and sighed with sadness as he picked up the photograph. McCormack had been found dead the previous evening the apparent victim of a mugging. The man's wallet and rings were missing.

Licking his lips, Blair stared at the other men in the photo before finally coming to a stop at Jim's face. "Jim, maybe there is a way I can help you," he said in a rush as he carried the picture with him and headed up to Jim's bedroom. Soon, he returned to the sofa with Jim's address book and the color photo in hand.

As he flipped through the pages, Blair made notes of the names Jim had said were with him at the café. Kenny, Butch, Joey, Karl, and Jake. They were all there, spread out across the pages of Jim's address book as a visual trail of the people who were woven into the fabric of Jim's life.

He tapped his notes with his pencil. "Jim might not be able to remember everything that happened, but I bet one of these guys has information we can use."

He splashed some water on his face, ran a towel over it, and grabbed his jacket. He was now on a mission. A mission to save Jim's life. He could only pray his mission would be successful.

A blow to his stomach brought Jim back from unconsciousness. When Jim opened his eyes, he saw it was a man who had hit him, repeatedly if the overload of pain signals in his body were any sign of his current condition. Jim glanced around for Anna, but she wasn't to be seen. Jim watched his new adversary with a wary gaze. He saw another blow coming, but was unable to do anything about it except to brace himself. It was followed by another and another.

When there was a break from the constant blows, Jim studied the young man before him. He appeared to be in his twenties, strong and sinewy, but lean. He could have been a candidate for a Golden Glove award gauging by the complaints ringing throughout his body.

"Why . . . why are you in this?" Jim asked breathlessly.

The young man began hitting him again with gloved fists, now using Jim's body as a human punching bag. The wannabe boxer danced around him, striking different areas as he went. Jim closed his eyes and suffered in silence, except for an occasional grunt when he was hit by a particularly painful blow.

"You want to know why I am in this, murderer?" Jim's assailant asked with hate flashing from his dark brown eyes.

His accent revealed his Peruvian roots along with his darker skin tone and broad nose. Jim spat out spittle mixed with blood, but he didn't say anything. His opponent looked like he was going to answer him and he did.

"You are the reason! In your quest to make a name for yourself, you killed innocent women and children, including my father, my sister and most of my friends." The man was so emotional his chest was heaving and he was covered in sweat. He stopped to catch his breath before he stood in Jim's face and ranted.

"My home became a battle ground and my whole world was transformed into a morgue with your raid. The lesson I learned from that living nightmare was to use hatred as my best weapon. You taught me that. You brought me here. No one else. You chose the method of your death the minute you attacked that compound and I assure you it will not be a pleasant one."

"I guess it doesn't matter that your people killed two of our men."

The young man grunted as he adjusted his gloves. "Have you ever heard of self-defense? Please, do not make me laugh, senior."

"What's your name?"

"Ramon."

"Well, Ramon, I don't think you fully considered your mistake in kidnapping me. Grabbing a cop is like waving a red flag in front of a bull. Every able member of law enforcement will devote themselves to the task of finding me."

Again, Ramon chuckled as he drew a fist across his forehead to brush at his sweaty face. "If they can find us here, then we deserve to be caught."

Without warning, he spun around and kicked Jim in the chest with a crushing blow. Jim slumped in the aftermath. The only thing keeping him upright was the rope he was hanging from.

"That is enough for you now," Ramon whispered to Jim's closed eyes. Jim was trying not to take in large breaths, but instead used a series of rapid inhalations. His chest felt like it was caved in, but it was probably only a couple of ribs.

"Enough for the physical torture, that is."

Jim tensed in response. He knew what was coming. More drugs.

"Now it is time for the psychological pain," Ramon said as he approached Jim with a syringe.

Jim closed his eyes again and prepared for the worst. He wasn't disappointed as he heard himself screaming from a sudden burst of sensory overload moments after the needle pierced his skin.

6


	7. Chapter 7

**"The Chameleon"**

**Chapter Seven**

Blair was sitting at Jim's desk on the telephone with a man he'd just awakened. "Hello, I'm Blair Sandburg and I'm calling from the Cascade police department. Is this Jake Wilson?"

Sandburg bit his lip and told himself he wasn't lying to the man. He _'was'_ calling from the Cascade police department. The fact that he didn't work for the department seemed like a moot point at the moment.

A grumpy grunt was all Blair got in the way of a response.

"I apologize for calling so early, but it's regarding a life-and-death matter. You're a friend of Jim Ellison, right?"

A sleepy voice sighed and said, "Yes, I am. What the hell does that have to do with me being woke up at four in the fucking morning?"

Blair swallowed, knowing he only had moments to reach the man on the other end before he hung up on him. "Jim has disappeared and we have reason to believe it might be related to a mission Jim once led."

There was silence on the other end.

Blair pushed forward. "Did you serve with Jim eight years ago in Lima, Peru?"

"Yes. Does this have something to do with Kenny McCormack's death?"

Sandburg paused, just now making the connection between McCormack's death and Jim's disappearance. "It might."

"I heard about Kenny last night on the eleven o'clock news. It shocked the hell out of me."

Blair didn't know what to say, so he remained silent and Wilson continued after a moment. "Look, if there's some way I can help you find Kenny's murderer and Jim's location, I'd be more than happy to help."

Blair sighed with relief. He now had the man's willing cooperation. "Thank you very much for helping us. Can you think of anything that stands out from your time with Jim in Peru?"

"The first thing that stands out from that time is the raid on Enrique Villanueva's compound."

"Jim's told me some of what happened there. Maybe you can explain the situation to me."

"Well, Jim was in charge of our unit. We were to grab Enrique Villanueva, one of the most vicious drug lords around, after several terrorist threats were lodged and we determined he had the means and motivation to carry them out."

"I understand Villanueva was killed in that raid."

"Yeah, it was the mission from hell. Jim was caught in a blast following the attack. He was pretty banged up by it. In fact, he broke his arm there, but what happened after that was worse."

Blair leaned forward, anticipating new information that Jim couldn't remember. He wanted to rush the man along, but didn't want to be rude.

Jake continued. "There was another blast in an outdoor café a week after Jim was discharged from the hospital."

"Was it related to the assault on Villanueva?"

"You could say that. It was a suicide bombing carried out by Villanueva's twelve-year-old son."

"Holy shit," Blair whispered, stunned by the revelation.

"Yeah, it wasn't a pretty picture, that's for sure."

"It hit Jim hard?"

"Yeah, he went on R&R for a while after that. Then he was transferred to another unit, the one that eventually wound up crashing in the jungle and everyone assumed he was dead."

"Do you have any idea on who might want revenge against Jim and kidnap him?"

The line went silent for a long minute, and then Jake spoke up again. "Well, if it's related to that mission, the only one person I can think of would be Villanueva's woman. She was supposedly Enrique's second-in-command. Hell, what was her name?"

There was another silence. "I think it was something like Anna Cordaron . . . Anna Cordova . . . Anna something. Ah, damn, I can't remember it, but you could pull the information from the Lima newspaper. It was in April eight years ago."

"Thank you for your help. You may have just given us the information we need to find Jim."

"I sure hope it helps some. All I know is Jimmy went through a living hell when it happened. He just didn't seem the same after that."

"Thanks again. We may be contacting you again, is that all right?"

"Sure."

Blair hung up and racked his brain for a minute trying to think of the fastest way possible to get copies of that newspaper when he thought of his research assistant for the semester, Joe Munroe. The kid was an early riser and a real go-getter when it came to research, plus he was fluent in Spanish. Blair called Munroe who agreed to get online and fax him anything he found.

Blair was just giving him the telephone number for the nearby fax when Simon and Taggert walked in. The police captain was not happy to see Blair sitting at Jim's desk. "Sandburg, I thought I told you to stay home."

"Who could sleep after receiving a call like yours? Besides, I've got additional information on Jim's time in Lima. The more I delve into this case, the more I'm sure Jim's stalker is from Peru. And I don't think she just popped into town to start slipping Jim that drug of hers. She would have been following him around for a while."

Things were clicking for Blair's explanation, but the next part he wanted to tell Simon couldn't be said with just anyone listening. "Uh, Simon, can we talk privately in your office?"

Simon nodded and Blair followed him into his office, only to pop back out the door as he called for Taggert. "Joel, there should be a fax coming in soon that is very important to Jim's kidnapping. Can you bring it in as soon as you receive it?"

"Sure thing, Blair. I'll be watching for it."

Blair slapped Taggert on the shoulder. "Thanks, buddy," he said quickly before dashing back to Simon's office.

"What was that disappearing act about?" Simon said from behind his desk.

Blair could tell Simon had been up most of the night and that always worsened the man's mood. He could be cantankerous on his best days. Now he would be downright unlivable. Blair licked his lips and dived into his explanation.

"You'll see. Okay, here goes. I think this woman has been following Jim around for a while and Jim may have picked up something from her that caused the memories from the raid to resurface for Jim and that's how that rapist was able to get away from Jim-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Back it up, Sandburg. I want you to start from the very beginning of this hypothesis and move along to this moment. And I want a Reader's Digest version of the events. I'm not up for one of your endless dissertations."

Blair's head bounced up and down as he started organizing his thoughts. Simon settled down into one of the chairs at the conference table and Blair began recanting recent events and how they related to Jim's situation. He was nearly done when Taggert popped in. "Here's your fax, Blair, but it's in Spanish."

"That's okay, Joel. I can read Spanish."

Blair took the document from Taggert and started reading. "Okay, okay, this makes sense. The mistress of the drug lord, Enrique Villanueva, was one Anna Cordova. That's the woman Jim's Army buddy, Jake Wilson, identified as being the best candidate searching for revenge against Jim. He said she was supposedly Villanueva's second-in-command.

"She was injured in the raid on Enrique's compound and remained in a coma until way after Jim's helicopter crash in the jungle. Now that we know her name and country of origin, we should be able to contact US Immigration and get a timeline on when she entered the States."

He paused, looking from Simon to Taggert and back to Simon again. "Well, what do you think?"

Simon stared at Blair for a moment. "I think you've been around this department long enough for it to have rubbed off on you. Pretty good bit of police work, Sandburg." He turned to Taggert. "Get on the horn with Immigration and tell them we literally needed that information yesterday."

Returning to Blair, Simon said, "It's a good start, at least. We've been spinning our wheels ever since Jim went missing."

He stared at Blair. "You look tired, Sandburg. You should go home and catch some sleep. I promise I'll call you the moment we get a lead."

Blair shook his head. "No, Simon, I couldn't sleep right now. Besides, my place is here and who knows? I might be useful at some point."

Simon patted Blair on the shoulder. "You've already been useful, Sandburg, but now you're on your way to indispensable."

Blair's mood brightened with the comment. Simon caught the change and groaned. "I must be more tired than I thought. If you repeat that comment to anyone, I'll deny it."

Blair smiled broadly at Simon. "Thanks, Simon. You don't know how much I appreciate what you said. And it will be our little secret."

Simon looked like he'd swallowed a mouthful of rancid food. "Get out of here, Blair. You look like a puppy that's just be given a year's supply of doggie treats."

Blair didn't say anything, only continued to smile as he left Simon's office. He saw Jim's desk and his smile disappeared. The connection he'd made between Jim and Villanueva's woman wouldn't amount to much if Jim turned up dead.

4


	8. Chapter 8

**"The Chameleon"**

**Chapter Eight**

Ellison was hanging from the rope unconscious once again after another grueling beating by Ramon. The young man wiped the sweat from his face and took the bottle of water offered by Anna.

She walked up to Jim, looking closely at the bruises and contusions covering his body. They were raised, some quite swollen and black with bruising. She brushed her fingers over the worst of them, seeing more than a few cuts that were bleeding. Her gaze went upward to his wrists.

"Ramon, we need to move him to the table."

"Why?" Ramon questioned her.

"I need to clean up some of these wounds."

"Why bother if we are going to kill him?"

Anna stared at Ramon. "If we want to drag out the process, then we must make sure he survives long enough for us to do that. I'll give him some water when he wakes up."

Ramon didn't look like he wanted to comply, but then turned toward Ellison, lifting his body up. Anna climbed on a step ladder and unhooked Jim's hands from the hook hanging from the ceiling. Together, they moved him to the table.

Anna brushed a hand through her hair and sighed. "This is becoming tedious, Ramon. Let's kill him and be done with it. Something is wrong here. I feel like we have overstayed our welcome. I think it is time to move on."

"No!" Ramon shouted. "I have been waiting for this for eight years! It started the moment the raid began and has consumed my life up until this very moment and I will not have it rushed, do you understand?"

Anna nodded, wiping more sweat from his brow and then slipped her hands around his waist. "Ramon, my love, we could keep this up until the day we die and it still wouldn't bring back the dead or satisfy our blood lust."

Ramon started chewing on one of her earlobes. "You may be right, but I know in my heart that we haven't made Ellison suffer enough yet. Soon, my love, very soon."

He stepped away from her and opened a gym bag, pulling out two very sharp knives. "Perhaps these will allow you to enjoy the process more."

Anna smiled as she took one of the blades from him, running her finger along its edge. "Perhaps," she said finally, handing them back to Ramon.

"I want to talk to him before you begin. Do not administer the next dose of the drug. I want him coherent when I speak with him."

"Your wish is my command," he whispered as he pulled away. "I need a shower."

"Maybe I will join you in this shower," she said as her hands ran across Ramon's chest.

"Again, your wish is my command."

Ramon took her back in his arms and kissed her deeply. Anna sighed with pleasure. Young Ramon was all she could ever ask for in a man. Devoted, handsome, and a superb lover.

Looking at Jim's unconscious form, she licked her lips. Soon, Ellison would be dead and a new life would begin for her and Ramon with the death of the soldier-turned-cop marking the end of their old one.

Ellison woke up lying on a table at the back of the room where he'd been hanging from a rope. There were bandages covering the areas on his body that Ramon had caused to bleed with his rapid fire blows. Jim was bewildered by the change. He was sure he'd die hanging from that rope, but someone had actually given him first aid.

Jim raised his head and moaned as a hundred different places on his body came alive with a roaring inferno of pain. It was so strong, it threatened to consume his mind, body and spirit. "Oh God," he hissed through clenched teeth, and then he heard a woman's laugh.

Cordova was taking pleasure in every bit of his pain. That was no surprise. She had already told him as much, along with the vow to kill him. By the feel of his battered body, death wouldn't be far off. Between the drugs and the beatings, he had been unconscious more than he'd been conscious. He had no idea of how many days he'd been held by them. The room had no windows, so Jim had nothing to mark the passage of time.

It could have been one day or fifteen with everything blurring together to become an eternity in hell. He hadn't eaten or drank anything since he'd been kidnapped. His mouth was dry, and his lips were swollen and bleeding. He could only see out of one eye. And he had developed a fever, probably due to dehydration and his injuries.

"Ellison?" Anna called to him.

He looked in her direction, realizing he was surprisingly alert. Anna stood from her chair and sauntered over to him, her shapely body exuding sexuality.

"Time for another round?" Jim asked with as much bravado as he could manage, speaking around swollen lips.

"Not yet," she held a sports bottle filled with water to his lips and squeezed so that the water trickled down into Jim's mouth. He drank all that she provided to him, but she stopped long before his thirst was quenched.

"No more for now. I wanted to talk to you before Ramon started using his knives on you."

She paused to allow her words to sink in. Jim kept his emotions from being revealed on his face, but a sick feeling twisted at his gut. _Knives! Ah, shit!_

"I want to make sure you are aware of certain details before you die."

"How kind of you to think of me at a time like this," Jim joked without a smile.

She circled him as he lay on the table, unable to move. Something reached Jim's senses with her so close to him and he was struck with sudden insight. "You were following me for a while before you started drugging me."

Anna looked surprised. "How did you know?"

"You were on my mind," he said enigmatically as he knew why his flashbacks started out of the blue. Some part of him must have been aware that he was being followed and her presence spurred the beginning of his flashbacks.

"Do you remember the layout of Enrique's compound?"

"It was a very long time ago."

"I think you remember more than you want to admit. I was there at Enrique's because his daughter, Marissa, was having a seventh birthday party. It was the reason why there were so many children there that night. Do you remember the children?"

With Anna's haunting words, Jim flinched. His reaction was much more pronounced now than when she had mentioned the knives or even when she talked about killing him. God, the children . . . how could he have forgotten about them?

_Time slowed to a crawl as flashes of images blinded him to all but the memories and they were burst forth with the power of a raging river pouring over broken levee. First, it was the laughter of the children that stuck with him, and then it blended into a quickly snatched glimpse of a birthday party in progress._

_Jim had taken point to reconnoiter, peeking into various windows before he saw the one with the birthday party in progress. _

_"Shit!" Jim whispered under his breath. _

_He glanced around, trying to think how the mission could be salvaged when he heard voices in the next room over. Peering over the corner of a window, he saw Enrique with Anna as they shared a drink, probably seeking refuge from the noise of the party next door. Jim snuck under the window and went past it to the nearest entrance._

_Kneeling down, he contacted Kenny McCormack. "I've got a location on Villanueva, but there's a damned birthday party filled with kids going on in the room next door. I advise we wait until we have a safer acquisition," he whispered into the mike._

_"Negative, Ellison. The colonel just called in. Our chopper is due to meet us at the rendezvous in fifteen minutes._

_"Shit!" Jim cursed._

_He glanced around him, trying to see an alternative and found none. _

_"Get back on the horn with Colonel Nelson and tell him he can wait another half hour. It's too hot right now."_

_"Roger that, but by the sound of his last message, he'll deny our request."_

_"Then tell him he better have a lot of body bags on hand, because this will get bloody."_

_Jim waited as he squatted behind some brush, watching the rear entrance of the building closely for any sign of activity. A minute later, McCormack called him back._

_"Jimbo, it's a bust. We are to move in and be ready for pickup in . . . thirteen minutes."_

_"Damn!" Jim cursed. _

_He wiped the back of his gloved hand across his mouth. "Okay, we proceed with the plan. I will be out in less than five if everything goes well."_

_"And If it doesn't?"_

_Jim grunted. "You head back to the rendezvous."_

_"We won't leave you."_

_"You don't have much of a choice. That's an order. And keep your eyes open. This place is crawling with hostiles."_

_Jim turned and scanned the area once more before heading for the rear entrance. He made it to Enrique's location without a hitch. Cracking a door open, he looked around the room, and found there were just the two of them. All he had to do was subdue the woman and get Enrique._

_He stepped into the room and aimed his rifle at the couple. "Don't move," he said in a loud whisper._

_Enrique looked surprised, and then his expression changed to amusement. "You have got to be kidding. Do you know how many guards there are between you and the front gates?"_

_Jim didn't react. "Doesn't matter. I'll have you, so they'll back off."_

_Enrique set down his glass and started to walk toward him when Jim raised the muzzle of his rifle. "I said don't move."_

_Anna Cordova silently stood behind the bar. There was an exchange of looks that passed between Enrique and Anna, causing Jim to worry. Apparently, they knew something he didn't know. He had to grab Enrique and get out of there._

_He tossed Villanueva some restraints. "Put one on her and then yourself."_

_Enrique stared at him for a moment, and began to do as he'd ordered. Soon, both of them were bound at the hands, but Jim could still feel the presence of imminent danger compelling him to move faster._

_"Over here, Villanueva. Now."_

_Enrique started walking toward Jim, temporarily blocking Jim's view of the woman. She ducked behind the bar and came up with an Uzi. She started spraying bullets in Jim's direction. So much for the quick in-and-out that military intelligence had planned._

_Jim ducked behind a sofa as Enrique hit the carpeting, getting clear of the bullets. Enrique pulled a knife from his boot and quickly cut through his restraints. As Jim fired back at Anna, Enrique snuck up on him and sliced his right forearm with the knife. Jim was able to buck him off his body, but Villanueva simply came back at him with the bloody blade again._

_Jim only had a moment to act. He swung his rifle around and fired, hitting Enrique squarely in the chest. Anna screamed as she ran to his side. One glance at her lover's condition made her spin around with the Uzi, unloading the clip with her rage._

_Jim rolled from his precarious position behind the couch to a large mahogany credenza, firing back at Anna with his rifle whenever he could. When he heard Anna at Enrique's side, he stood, and started to approach them with his weapon trained on the two._

_He moved along the far end of the room, watching Anna closely. When she reared up and fired in his direction. Jim heard Enrique shout a warning to her. "No, Anna, you will hit the tanks!"_

_And then, from out of nowhere, an explosion threw Jim through one of the windows and the memory stopped. _

Jim raised his head, looking at the present day Anna Cordova and compared her to the one he'd met briefly eight years ago, now seeing her in a new light. She had been responsible for killing Enrique and the children, and had somehow shifted the blame to Jim.

"I thought you had passed out on me," Anna said quietly.

"No, just taking a walk down memory lane."

"Wherever you were wasn't pleasant. Perhaps you were being visited by the ghosts of those you killed in the name of justice . . . "

Jim didn't say anything, just kept his gaze locked onto hers. "What was in that tank you ignited? Propane? Chemicals for refining the cocaine? Dammit, Anna, you killed those kids!"

Anna's expression crinkled for a moment as a wave of some emotion passed over her face before it disappeared. She walked up to Jim and slugged him in the chest as she screamed, "No! You killed them! It was because of you!"

Jim was drifting with an outgoing tide of pain and didn't care. In fact, he hoped he would pass out again since it was his only respite against the nightmare he was now living. Unfortunately, that wasn't to be.

Cordova regained her composure after a moment. "How dare you try to place the blame on me! You were responsible for that night, just as you were responsible for what happened at the café!"

With her mentioning the café, Jim was pulled back by new images now flashing in his head, drawing him back to the past again, but this time it was to the outdoor café in Lima.

_There were six of them in the plaza that day. The weather was gorgeous. Jim set down his newspaper when the meals arrived, making his mouth water. There was a rattling noise of something hitting the legs of the table. He started to glance down when Kenny shouted, "Grenade!"_

_Kenny pulled him up by his good arm, but Jim was looking to see who had thrown the grenade. Precious moments were spent as he found a boy, no more than twelve, standing a few feet from them and watching them with more hatred than Jim could fathom. The boy was holding another grenade in his hand, preparing to throw it at Jim._

_Kenny yanked Jim's arm again, more urgently this time. Jim looked to him in confusion and turned back to grab the boy and get him to safety, but Kenny hit him squarely on the jaw, and he went down. Jim was aware he was being carried, but everything went black after that._

A slap to his face brought Jim back to the present. There was a venomous look in Anna's eyes, something that chilled Jim to the core, and reminded him of Villanueva's son. She was

a stone-cold murderer, and apparently she didn't take any of the responsibility for the events she blamed Jim for causing.

"You know, Ellison, I was in a coma for nearly a year after that. When I came to, it took months of physical therapy just to be able to stand on my own, and then I had to learn how to walk again. Everything caused pain, and without Ramon's love to see me through, I might have killed myself," she paused and pinned Jim in place with a deadly gaze, "Soon, you will know that type of pain."

She drew her finger along Jim's abraded cheek. "I wanted to know you know exactly why you are suffering now and for you to remember those details with your last dying breath. Ramon will be in shortly to play with his new knives."

She touched him and there was a skin prick. The drug was back in his system. And she walked out without another word, leaving Jim to wonder about exactly how much time he had to live.

9


	9. Chapter 9

**"The Chameleon"**

**Chapter Nine**

"Simon, you said on the phone that you had a possible lead on Jim's location. Do you have any more information?" Blair asked as he got into Simon's car and closed the door.

"We may have a lead on the kidnappers. There was a hit-and-run accident at the hospital's parking lot about the same time that the security cameras showed Anna and another man wheeling Jim out of the hospital. Now, we have had real photographs to show around instead of an artist's rendering."

"That's great!"

Simon nodded. "A witness at the scene, a hospital employee, had seen the accident and got the license plate number of the fleeing car. We've traced the plates back to a car rental agency. The car was found a couple of hours ago, abandoned and wiped clean, so there were no usable prints. The address and phone number given were both bogus, but for some reason, they have been using the same credit card.

"But by running the credit card number that was used to rent that car, we've tracked its recent activity and found all of the purchases occurred within a relatively small area of northern Cascade. The most frequent usage was at a gas station. We're on our way there now."

"Wow," was Sandburg's only reply.

They pulled in the gas station minutes later and spoke to the owner when a gentleman came in to pay for his gas. The owner turned to the customer and said, "Hey, Murphy, remember the other day when we were talking about the crushed fender of that Mercedes?"

"Yeah, I remember it. It was really dented in with lots of pretty colors not included in the original paint job. Why?"

"These cops are asking about it. It was in a hit-and-run accident and they are trying to find the owner."

"Oh yeah? Well, look no further. When I was on my way home the other day, I passed that same car making a left turn onto Delsimo Drive. There's only a couple of houses on that road. Some of them extend way into the wilderness."

Simon stared at Murphy in disbelief, thinking back on their dashed hopes when the US Immigration called to say no one by the name of Anna Cordova had entered the country in the last year. Tying the hit-and-run to Anna Cordova was a mighty big stretch, but it was their only lead. The witness to the accident described a woman matching Anna's appearance and she was with a young man. He didn't see Jim with them, but he was probably unconscious or he would have fought the kidnapping.

Now, an off-chance lead might actually take them to Jim. Random information of this magnitude only happened maybe once in a lifetime. Or maybe Jim had just hit the mother lode of luck in the form of the two men before him.

"Thank you. Thank you very much. Could you write your name, address and phone number on this note pad while I make a telephone call?"

"You've got it."

Simon ordered up the troops. Soon, they were on their way to Delsimo Drive.

The hallucinogen was coursing through Jim's system. He blinked several times trying to clear his distorted vision, but it didn't help much. "Come on, Ellison, you've got to get out of here before they hang you up like a side of beef again."

His hands were bound in front of him and Jim rolled to one side in hopes of getting to his feet. There were so many pain signals vying for attention that it seemed like one huge ache covering his entire body. He didn't care if he groaned as he moved, it was the necessary cost for finding freedom.

He managed to throw his legs over the side of the table and rise to a sitting position. The room swirled around him, and for a moment, Jim wasn't sure if he had imagined his conversation with Anna. No, he told himself, the memories that came to him during their talk were real. He felt it in his gut.

But, why would Anna leave him alone with only his hands tied together? That just didn't make any sense. She must have thought he was a whole lot worse off than he was. Jim could handle a lot of pain, maybe more than the average folk, but it didn't help the misery he was feeling right then.

He looked about as he heard a voice, low and muffled. No one was with him, but he was sure he'd heard someone speaking to him. Swallowing hard, Jim got to his feet. He swayed wildly and had to reached down to grab the table for support.

"I've got to get moving or I'll run into Ramon," he whispered to himself, "along with his trusty knives."

Taking a breath, Jim made his first step and didn't collapse. That was a good sign, he told himself, and took another one. Soon, he was at the door. It was awkward turning the door knob, but he finally succeeded. Peeking out into the hallway, Jim saw the coast was clear and chose one of two directions to go, trying to find a way outside and to freedom.

Again, Jim heard the voice calling to him. He spun around, but no one was there. He blinked, but the kaleidoscope of colors and shapes remained. Okay, if his acute vision wasn't functioning, what about his acute sense of hearing, touch, and smell? By concentrating, he smelled the distinct scent of pine trees nearby. He reached the end of the hallway and saw there was a door leading out.

Quietly opening the door, he peered outside and didn't see any movement, but he did see the tall evergreens beckoning to him. Jim ran as fast as he could to the woods' protective cover and safety.

He slumped against a tree trunk and kissed it with a rush of relief. The rope binding his hands was cutting into the skin and hampered his escape, but he didn't see anything he could use to free himself, so he ran. He wasn't sure if he was heading in the right direction, but it didn't matter as long as it was away from Anna and Ramon.

Glancing up to the sky, Jim saw that it had to be late afternoon. The air was just as chilled as it had been in the room, but Jim used the cold to his advantage, because it helped to keep him alert, albeit his vision was still tripping out with bizarre colors and shapes.

He stopped to catch his breath and sought to get his bearings. Jim sniffed the air and detected smoke coming from a fireplace in the distance. He headed off in that direction, but stopped when he heard someone calling his name again.

Looking around once more, and finding no one near him, he whispered, "Dammit, there's no one here, so shut up with the voices already!"

His orders went unanswered and the voice became louder, distracting him. He tripped on a fallen branch and hit the ground hard. The fall knocked the air from his lungs and he lay sprawled on a bed of pine needles for a while just trying to breathe.

"Got to get going," he said aloud, willing himself to his feet again.

He felt like he was a rusty old machine that couldn't quite get its engine going. He swallowed and sniffed the air again. The smoke seemed stronger than before and Jim hoped he'd find the place before he collapsed, which wouldn't be too far off the way he was stumbling around.

He was on a rising slope lined on both sides with crevices and gullies where water flowed in a small creek. He listened carefully and he soon heard the faint sound of trickling water. Suddenly, the fireplace didn't seem as important as quenching his maddening thirst.

Somehow, Jim made it down to the creek without falling until the very end. He lost his footing and rolled down the rest of the way, crying out in pain as the ground wasn't very forgiving to his injuries. His clumsiness was tearing his thin pajama bottoms into shreds, but that was the least of his worries.

After a moment, he steadied his breathing and made it over to the creek, kneeling beside the running water and dunked his face into the ice cold water. He drank until he had to come up for air, gasping as he rolled over onto his back. The water had revived him somewhat, but he was still seeing and hearing things.

The voice that had been calling to him clarified, "Jimmy?"

Jim shook his head to dispel a sudden wave of disbelief. He now recognized the voice. It belonged to Kenny McCormack, but Kenny was dead. At least, Jim seemed to remember being told Anna that Kenny was dead, but she might have been teasing him. No, there was the image of a wallet flashing through his head. Kenny was dead, so who was talking to him?

_Jimmy, come on, answer me,_ the disembodied voice begged.

Jim squeezed his eyes shut and tried to block out the voice.

_Jimbo, please talk to me._

"Go away!" Jim shouted.

_But I'm here to help you._

Jim opened his eyes and looked around again, getting glimpses of the terrain around him in between the blinding bursts of color and shapes, but there was no Kenny McCormack around him.

A distant part of him realized it was the drug in his system that was manufacturing Kenny's voice, but it sounded so familiar and caring. And another part of him wished he could actually talk to Kenny. He had so many things he wanted to say to his old friend, most importantly how guilty he felt about bringing Kenny into his problems, and especially when it resulted in Kenny's death.

Struggling to overcome his drug-induced madness, Jim let his head fall back to the ground and promptly passed out.

"Anna! Ellison is gone!" Ramon shouted from the empty room.

He heard the rush of her footsteps and he stepped out into the hallway to meet her. They both looked to the door at the end of the hallway and began running. Once outside, they turned in slow circles but saw nothing.

"He couldn't have gotten far," Anna said, catching her breath. "I was only gone for a few minutes."

"You head that way and I'll head this way," he said as he gestured his directions with one hand, the other hand making sure he still had his cell phone with him. "Call me on the cell if you find him."

Ramon began running as his gaze darted about. He checked the ammo in his nine-millimeter Glock. They couldn't lose Ellison without killing him first. If that happened, everything they'd been working for would be lost.

Simon had teams searching each of the properties on Delsimo Drive, but so far there was no sign of Jim. Simon sat with Blair in his car. They were parked outside the last house to search, carefully watching the grounds for any sign of activity.

"Captain, there's a car parked in the rear of the residence, but so far, there's been no activity."

Simon caught Blair's eye and sighed. This idea might turn up to be a waste of time.

"Sir, shall we proceed with the search at this point or hold?" a voice said over the car's radio.

Simon sighed and picked up the hand mike. "It's a go, but watch yourselves. These people are cop killers among their other crimes."

"Roger that, sir."

Blair was adjusting the straps on his bulletproof vest when Simon looked over to him. "Are you ready for this?"

Blair looked up at him, clearly not anxious to go into a dangerous situation, but his friendship with Jim overrode his anxiety. "I'm ready," he said as he came around the car to stop beside Simon.

The other teams descended upon their location. Simon had his map out and began to lay out the search grid. Once the assignments were given, everyone split up. Simon and Blair headed toward the house, along with one of the two man teams.

"Blair, you stay behind me all the way, understood?"

Blair nodded. "Yeah, Simon, I kn-"

Blair was interrupted by the sound of a gunshot and suddenly nothing else mattered.

5


	10. Chapter 10

**"The Chameleon"**

**Chapter Ten**

Jim was on his feet again and running upstream in the direction of the smoke he'd detected earlier. He was still reeling from the drug's effects, but hoped he would soon find someone who could help him.

_Move it, Jimmy, they will be looking for you by now,_ Kenny's voice told him.

"I know, I know already," Jim whispered under his breath.

He had to stop, grabbing hold of a tree, as his vision became obscured once again. He shook his head, trying to shake clear of the drug, but when he looked around again, he still couldn't see the reality of what was around him, instead all he saw were rapidly shifting patterns of light and dark.

_Don't depend on just your sight here, Jim,_ Blair's voice came to him, joining Kenny's, _Use your sense of smell and your hearing to guide you._

Jim felt his expression contort as he said, "My hearing is all screwed up. All I can hear is you and Kenny, and you two aren't real!"

_Let us help you, Jimmy._

"NO!" Jim shouted back, dropping to his knees. "No more, please. I can't take this . . . "

Kenny spoke next. _Jim, we are only trying to save your life. Those drugs have your system all out of whack, but we can tell you where to go and how to be safe when you aren't able to find the way yourself._

_He's got a good point,_ Simon said quietly, his voice appearing out of the blue.

"NOOOO!" Jim cried out against the voices echoing in his mind, and fell to the ground, unmoving.

Simon directed his teams to spread out in the direction of the gunshot.

"Search teams, report. Any signs of Jim or the kidnappers yet?" he ordered.

When the teams reported in, no one had found anything yet. Simon looked to Blair who was keeping up with Simon's long strides. The young man's face revealed his worry without saying a word.

"We'll find him, Sandburg."

Blair nodded, but then shook his head. "Why are we searching the woods when we haven't searched the house yet? I mean that shot could have been a hunter in the woods for all we know."

"It isn't hunting season. Besides, Mancuso's team searched the house as they swept through and no one was there. No, my cop instincts are telling me that Jim is involved with that gunshot in some way."

Blair sighed and looked down. He stopped and knelt beside the area, looking up to Simon. "Wait, Simon, look here. The foliage has been disturbed by someone recently. Someone who was out in this forest barefooted."

Simon knelt closer to see for himself. "Damn, Sandburg, I didn't know you were an Indian scout. Someone did come through here barefooted and recently by the look of the mud. Let's see if we can follow the trail."

"It's got to be Jim," Blair whispered, looking back down at the footprint.

Simon stood, and patted Blair on the shoulder. "It won't be long now, Sandburg," he said with a smile.

The smile came from his attempt at humor, but also from a glimmering of hope. Simon didn't want to let it grow until they actually had Jim safe in hand again. Until then, he had to keep his mind on the task before him.

He reached for his hand mike and called the rest of the teams. "We've got a trail leading into the woods and we think it's probably Ellison. Call for an ambulance and paramedics to stand by."

Blair stood, and started moving forward, following the trail of footprints in the mud.

"Be careful, Sandburg, and keep an eye open for trouble. If that gunshot did come from one of the kidnappers, this forest isn't safe."

Blair nodded, glancing around, but his attention returned to the trail. Simon sighed as he appointed himself Blair's protector since Blair wasn't paying any attention to their surroundings. Blair's only focus was devoted to following the trail as they delved deeper into the forest and Simon's was on protecting him.

Blair halted at a spot where the runner left a deeper impression, as if he had paused at this very location. He glanced at the tree trunk beside him and saw something wet reflecting in the darkening sunlight of dusk. He wiped at it with his fingers and his breath caught as he realized it was blood.

Simon knelt beside him, and when he saw the blood, he had the same reaction as Blair. Blair spoke in a low, quiet tone as he said, "Jim's hurt."

Simon rubbed the back of his neck. "Come on, we better hurry. It will be dark soon and we'll have to pull back for flashlights and heavier gear."

Blair stood, his gaze glancing ahead for the next sign of disturbed foliage. Soon, he was on his way again, trying to rub the blood against his pants leg, but somehow it stubbornly remained on his fingers, just as his worry for Jim never left his thoughts.

Blair continued to head in the same direction they'd been following when he suddenly lost the trail. "Wait, Simon, I don't see where he headed from here," his voice echoed the desperation he felt washing over him.

He slowly turned until he saw another footprint in the mud to his right. Following it, he saw that the person headed down into a ravine where a brook ran through its lower regions. "I-I think he went down there," he said as he pointed downward.

Simon looked confused. "Why change direction all of a sudden?"

Blair was grim as he said, "Maybe he was being followed. That gunshot came from someone."

"Wait," Blair said, stopping Simon from walking over a footprint. "There's a smaller print over Jim's. Someone else came through here after Jim did."

Simon's expression darkened. "He's being followed."

Blair nodded. "I think so."

Banks glanced to Blair, his expression frowning. "Where did you learn all this, Sandburg?"

Blair brushed his long hair out of his face. "You forget I've spent a lot of time studying various tribes and their activities. You hang around hunters long enough, you learn how to read the signs your prey has left."

Simon nodded. "So we're going down there?" he asked as his head gestured toward the creek.

"Yeah, that's where the trail leads."

They headed off, carefully crossing the steep hillside of rock and dirt.

Jim awoke to uncontrollable shivering. He curled up into a ball, trying to warm himself, but it didn't help. The cold temperature, along with his lack of clothing, and the dampness of the forest all combined to work against him.

After a moment, he began to move, but stopped when he was hit with mind-numbing pain. He didn't know how he could hurt in so many places and still be alive, but he was. His hand brushed his broken ribs, making his breath catch. Looking down, he saw a myriad of black and blue bruises with hints of yellow and green at the edges.

It didn't take him long to remember where he was or why. Anna and Ramon. Rage fueled a sudden burst of energy and he got to his feet, though he swayed wildly. He blinked a few times and looked around, not sure what was the right direction to go. The daylight was waning rapidly.

Sniffing at the air, Jim found the source of smoke again. Stumbling along, he proceeded ahead. Then he caught a whiff of something that shouldn't be in a forest. Perfume. Anna was close by. The adrenaline rush fueled a new source of energy and he moved as fast as he could.

He found a spot where he could hide in the middle of several trees closely clumped together. Sniffing the air again, Jim warily watched as Anna approached. She had been running, but stopped as she glanced around her, obviously not sure of which direction to take.

Jim held his breath as she walked forward and stopped again right beside his hiding place. Staying in one place allowed his injuries to beg for attention. One hand went to his ribs as he crouched down, watching her without blinking, but his body was trembling so badly from the cold, he was afraid he'd give his position away.

Finally, she walked on, soon disappearing from his sight. Jim slumped against a cold tree trunk and held on for all he was worth. He swallowed, wondering if he should stay put or make a run in another direction. The decision was taken away from him as his body shut down in an unexpected siesta and all he could do was go with the flow.

Jim wasn't sure how much time had passed when he crawled out from the thicket of trees, but apparently it wasn't long enough, because he heard a noise behind him. Spinning around, he saw Anna standing there, aiming a gun at his head.

"You were not supposed to go out of your room without a chaperone, Ellison," she said tightly.

Jim shrugged, standing unsteady. "I've never been one to follow orders."

"Step away from the trees and go back in the direction we came from."

She waved the gun and waited for him to comply. As he started walking, he heard her speak into her cell phone. "I found him. We are heading back now. Meet us at the house."

Neither one of them said anything for the next minute. Jim's mind was racing as he considered his alternatives and possible ways to escape before they reached the house.

_Fall down to the ground and when she comes to you, give her a solid head butt to send her flying,_ his dead friend, Kenny, said in whispered tones.

"No, that won't work. His hands are still tied," the faux Simon argued.

"The ropes won't stop him from doing as Kenny suggested," Blair's voice chimed in.

Jim groaned from listening to the argument inside his head. _Ah, hell, why not try it?_

He dropped to the ground, rolling over to one side to keep his hands as free as possible, and closed his eyes, pretending to pass out. Anna did exactly as predicted, kneeling beside him to see what was the matter.

_Now!_ Kenny shouted.

Jim came up with all the strength he had and hit Anna in the chin with the top of his head hard enough to rattle her teeth and send her reeling backwards. Jim snatched the gun from her hand and was still crouched, about to aim it at her, when she kicked out with one leg, hitting his broken ribs.

Jim gritted his teeth together, riding out his body's threats to shut down again, and kept hold of the gun as he dropped to his knees. Anna growled with anger and tackled him, the two of them rolling across the forest floor.

She tried to wrestle the gun away from him, but Jim was not about to let her gain possession of the weapon again. Their struggle resulted in the gun discharging. Neither one of them moved until Anna fell to the ground beside Jim, her unseeing eyes staring at some fixed point beyond life.

Jim struggled to breathe. The battle had flared his injuries and weakened his energy stores, but he knew he couldn't stop for long. Ramon would have heard the shot and would be after him soon. With the gun still in his hands, he stumbled away from the dead woman and back in the direction he'd been heading.

Simon saw the body first, running ahead of Blair. Rolling her over, he found Anna Cordova dead from a single gunshot wound. Blair came up behind him, stopping when he saw who it was. Then his gaze darted around the scene, looking for Jim. Or some sign of where he had gone.

There was very little in the way of light by then, but Blair knelt close to the ground in order to see better. Finally, he saw Jim's tracks leading out of the scene of a struggle. "Here, Simon, let's go!"

Simon was behind him. His gaze darted around them. "Hurry, Sandburg, we're lose the light."

"It's almost gone already, but I think I can follow him."

Simon didn't answer him. They both knew there was very little time left to find Jim before they had to pull back and organize a search-and-rescue mission.

6


	11. Chapter 11

**"The Chameleon"**

**Chapter Eleven**

Jim crashed through the forest, no longer caring if he made noise or not. The brush tore at his thin pajama bottoms, shredding the material. They weren't much protection against the elements anyway. He was aware enough to know his time spent conscious was rapidly dwindling and soon he wouldn't be moving at all. Yet, he had to get as far away from Anna's body as possible, because when Ramon found her, he'd come after Jim.

The voices in his head started speaking to him again. This time, he didn't fight them. He needed all his concentration directed to finding that house with the fireplace.

_Jim, you've got to slow down or you'll burn yourself out before you get there,_ Kenny warned him.

_He's right, you know. Why run when you can walk? Your injuries won't allow you to run forever._

_Sandburg, Ramon will be after him soon. Jim's right to hurry. I'd be running too, if it were me._

Finally, someone was agreeing with him, Jim thought with a grunt. His vision was still wild with imaginary sights. It seemed like he would fare far better if he was running with a blindfold on than what he was currently seeing. No matter, he had to deal with what he could on his own. What was that quote from Teddy Roosevelt?_ 'Do the best you can with what you have.'_ That was just what he was going to do.

When Jim heard his name being called again, he ignored it. He was too tired to listen to the voices again. He was almost too tired to do anything but sleep. He forced himself forward, hoping the house he was looking for wasn't too far away.

He tripped and fell hard. The unexpected tumble caused him to groan loudly as he rolled

back and forth, dealing with pain like he'd never known before. His battered body just couldn't take it any longer, but he knew he had to keep moving. He couldn't let Ramon find him. If he did, it would be all over.

Glancing around, he saw two figures moving toward him amidst the changing patterns of light and shapes, and thought, _Dammit, Anna and Ramon! They're after me again!_

He climbed to his feet and started running again, but he didn't get far. He just couldn't pick up his feet enough to keep from falling and with his hands tied, he couldn't use his arms to grab for support or even to steady himself.

When he fell this time, he rolled down a small ravine, tumbling over and over, as he cried out in pain, unable to protect his injuries from the plants, trees, and rock that lined his descent. He came to an abrupt stop when he rolled into a large tree trunk. The impact knocked the breath from him and he almost passed out from a new source of pain.

As he drifted between pain, fantasy, and reality, he heard the voices calling to him more clearly as the two followed his trail down the slope. Jim looked down and was relieved to see he hadn't dropped his gun in the fall. He tightened his hold and aimed the weapon at the figures approaching him.

"Stay away or I'll shoot!" he warned between breathless gasps.

"Jim, it's me and Simon. We're here to rescue you," Blair said gently.

Jim shook his head. "No, you aren't! You're here to kill me, or you're here to help Ramon kill me."

"No, Jim, we're your friends. We're here to take you to the hospital."

"YOU'RE NOT REAL!" Jim shouted as he fired his gun. "Get out of my head!"

His shot went wild, but it startled the two men who dropped to the ground and began whispering between themselves. Jim's acute hearing picked up on their conversation. Great, now he was listening to more hallucinations. He squeezed his eyes shut, but it didn't silence the voices.

"They must have drugged him again, Simon. He can't see we're here to help him."

"Look at him, Sandburg. He's bleeding from several wounds. I'm surprised he can even see with that eye swollen shut. They really worked him over. Who knows what kind of injuries he has? We've got to get to him and fast."

There was a moment of silence and the second man was speaking again, but to someone else. "I need that ambulance here on the double!"

Jim glanced back at them, wishing they were really his friends and not some imaginary phantoms. He sagged back against the tree in exhaustion. When the others tried to approach him, he raised the gun back in their direction. "Don't come any closer," he whispered.

One man nodded. "I hear you, man. Don't worry, I won't come closer until you tell me it's okay. You have to know all I want to do is help you. I've been your friend for a long time now. Won't you let an old friend help you?"

Jim shuddered. "I let Kenny help me and he's dead now. Dead . . . so many dead."

"Jim, you have to think of yourself right now. You're badly hurt and need medical care. We can get you home, safe and sound, and have your injuries taken care of. Don't you want to feel better? The sooner you let me help you, the sooner the pain will be taken gone."

Jim watched the phantom resembling Blair and listened to his words. It sounded so much like something Blair would say to him. And he was so damned cold. The shivers had his hands shaking so much, he let the gun drop down and sighed. He was too tired to fight anymore. If his imaginary friends wanted to help him, he was going to let them. God only knew he couldn't help himself anymore.

Simon reached around from behind the tree Jim was leaning against and took the gun from Jim's limp grasp. Jim didn't try to fight him for it. He looked about ready to pass out. He hadn't noticed Simon moving around the periphery to sneak up on him while Blair distracted him, which said a lot about Jim's injuries. He put a hand on Jim's shoulder to comfort him, but only succeeded in causing Jim to cry out in pain and writhe away from him.

"Oh God, Jim, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."

Jim looked up at him in bewilderment. "Simon? Are you really here?"

Simon smiled and nodded. "Yes, I am, Jim. I'm here with Sandburg. Help is on the way."

Blair was at Jim's side by then. "Hang in there, buddy. We'll have you back to normal in no time."

Jim was still gasping for air as his eyes tried to focus on his friends. "I thought you were them. I thought I was a dead man. Geez, I could have shot you both . . . "

His head dropped as he slumped over. Blair caught him and lowered him to the ground as he checked his pulse. Blair glanced up at Simon. "He's really hurt bad, Simon. I'm no doctor, but I'd say he's going into shock."

Simon nodded and reached for his mike. "What's taking that ambulance so long? We've got a badly injured patient in need of emergency medical attention!"

There was a slight pause before he got a response. "They should be here any moment, Captain, but how do we find you?"

Simon thought for a moment. "I'll fire a round and see if you can get a direction from that. Leave men posted along the way, so the paramedics will have a path to come to us. I'm afraid to move Ellison without knowing more about his injuries and he's unconscious right now."

"Got it, Cap. We'll start moving as soon as you fire your gun, but you might have to do it more than once to get all the way to you."

"Understood. And, Riker?"

"Yes, sir."

"Don't ever call me Cap again."

Simon heard a chuckle before Riker responded, "Yes, sir, Captain, sir."

Simon looked down at Blair who had pulled off his jacket and placed it over Jim. He rubbed Jim's hands in an effort to warm him, but the desperation on Blair's face told Simon it was too little too late. Jim needed to be in a hospital. Simon knelt down and placed his own jacket over Jim. "It won't be long now, Blair."

Blair nodded, but Simon knew he wouldn't relax until they had Jim in a hospital.

Jim was sleeping when Simon came into Jim's hospital room. He found Blair just where he had found him so often since their misadventure had begun, sitting in a chair beside Jim's bed, grading some papers in the dim lighting.

"Sandburg, you are going to go blind reading in the dark like that."

Blair glanced to him and smiled. He stood and set the papers in his chair, walking to the door to meet Simon. "The light really bothers his eyes, you know, and besides I could see well enough to read," he said in a hushed whisper.

Simon gazed at Blair before asking, "Just like you followed Jim's footprints in the dark?"

Blair shook his head. "That was nothing. I was only doing what we had to do to find Jim."

Simon folded his arms in front of him. "Sometimes I wonder if you aren't picking up Jim's sentinel abilities by osmosis."

Blair laughed. "Not hardly, Simon, not hardly."

He glanced back at Jim, making sure he hadn't awakened him with his laughter. Simon took a step toward the bed. "How's he doing?"

Blair put a hand to the back of his neck and sighed. Simon took another look at Blair. The young man looked beat . . . and troubled. "Sandburg?"

Blair's gaze darted toward him and then back to Jim. "He's doing okay, all things considered. It just bothers me that he still hasn't woke up yet. I mean, it's been four days since we found him."

"He did require surgery, Blair. That can take a lot out of a person. When you add in being drugged along with his other injuries, I'd be surprised if he was awake now. Try not to worry about him. Jim's tough. He's a fighter, always have been one. Just give his body time to heal enough to come back to us."

Blair frowned. After a moment, he nodded. "You're right, Simon. I guess I just need to mellow out a bit."

Simon watched him carefully. "You're too close to this, Sandburg. You need to take some time to rest yourself."

Blair took a deep breath. "Maybe after he's awake and I know he's okay, I will, but not now. I don't want to leave him alone just yet."

"Listen, I'll stay with him tonight. You go home and get some shut eye."

"Why don't both of you go home and let me get some sleep," Jim murmured from his bed.

Both men reacted to Jim's comment, smiles brightening their faces as they went to Jim.

"What's a guy gotta do to get some quality sleep around here?" Jim asked from barely opened eyes.

"Jim! You're awake!" Blair said, stating the obvious.

"Yeah, but just barely. I feel like I've been dragged across a desert and left for dead."

Simon watched Blair's expression change into something more grim. "Just about, Jim."

Jim looked to Simon. "How long have I been out?"

"Four very long days. Do you remember what happened after you were taken from the hospital by Cordova and her friend?"

Jim's expression turned dark. "Anna and Ramon happened."

"Ramon? Is that the name of the man who was with her?" Blair asked.

Jim looked surprised. "You mean he wasn't at the house when you got there?"

Simon shook his head. "No, there was just Anna's body. We couldn't find anyone else, even though there were signs of a second person."

Jim closed his eyes. "He's still out there."

Simon bent closer to Jim. "Don't worry, Jim. We'll get the department's artist out here for another sketch, this time one of this Ramon person and put it out on an APB. Tell me more about him."

Jim sighed and Simon could tell he was about to drift away from them again. Jim shifted in his bed and almost flew out of it. He groaned as he held his ribs, his body caught up in a spasm of pain. Simon looked at his heavily bandaged wrists, remembering how bad they looked when they first found him. He put a light hand on Jim's shoulder, not wanting to cause another injury to flare.

"Take it easy, Jim. We'll find him. You just concentrate on getting better, okay?"

Jim nodded, but he was still in obvious pain.

Blair spoke to Jim from the other side of the bed. "What do you remember about Ramon?"

Jim paused for a moment and cleared his throat. The slightest movement seemed to pain him, but he pushed it away, answering on Blair's question instead.

"He was young, maybe twenty to twenty-five, but ruthless. He hated me with a vengeance, blaming me for the death of his sister and friends. I-I have never seen someone enjoy beating on others the way this kid enjoyed torturing me."

Jim closed his eyes and hissed in pain. Blair glanced to Simon and Simon nodded. "Jim, we're going to call the nurse. She needs to know you are awake and in pain."

"I don't need-"

"You're too late, Jim. Blair's already gone for her. Don't fight her about the pain medication. You need it."

"No, Simon, you don't understand. After spending weeks at the mercy of the drugs Anna was slipping to me, I don't want anything else in my system."

Simon patted his arm. "Yes, Jim, I do understand, but you'll heal faster using the pain meds than you would without them."

Jim shook his head, closing his eyes and fell back asleep. Simon looked to the door when he heard the nurse enter. "I think he's asleep, but he was really suffering."

"Little wonder with his list of injuries," she said as she injected Jim with a syringe, "The doctor wants him resting as much as possible until those ribs heal a bit."

"He's going to fight you every step of the way about the pain medicine. He would have started right now if he was still awake."

The nurse shook her head as she checked Jim's vital signs. "We'll deal with that when we have to. Until then, he gets regularly scheduled shots, which will help to keep him resting."

She winked at Simon and Blair. "One way or another, he will heal."

She left Simon and Blair alone to watch Jim sleep. "Blair, why don't you leave? I'll stay with him tonight."

Blair hesitated. "What about this Ramon person?"

Simon chewed on the inside of his cheek. "We can't do anything until Jim can give us a description of the man. I'll call into work and see what the forsenic team found at the Delsimo house. They were already looking for another person. Now we know his name."

Blair nodded, but didn't move to leave. His gaze was distant until he took a deep breath. "I-I keep seeing that room where they held Jim. I can't imagine what Jim went through in the days he was missing."

Simon looked to Jim as he slept. "No man should ever suffer like he has."

Blair nodded and then his face scrunched with anger. "It's going to take him a while to work through this nightmare."

Simon didn't say anything as he mulled over Blair's statement. "The soldier in Jim probably helped to keep him alive. As bad as it was, Jim will work through it. In fact, he will probably tell us to stop acting like mother hens."

"That's just it, Simon. Jim can barrel through all kinds of things and never say a word about it, as if he locks it away in a dungeon like the one Anna and Ramon kept him in. The surfacing of those repressed memories shows just how far he can hide them from himself. We've got to get him talking about the incident and fast, before he can stuff the emotions and memories away again."

Simon rubbed his face. "I'm no psychologist, Blair, but I do know a lot about way the human mind works. You have to trust Jim to find his own way through this mess. Anything else will never work. Jim's too headstrong for it to work."

Blair nodded and yawned.

"Sandburg, go home before I'm forced to kick you out of here."

Blair made a face, but gathered up his things. "Call me if anything changes," he said as he threw his backpack over his shoulder.

"I will. I promise. Now, get out of here."

Blair walked to the door and glanced back at Jim. "It doesn't matter what time you call."

"I'm going to call hospital security if you don't get your butt out of here. Jim's fine for the moment, now get some sleep. That's an order."

Blair saluted, but his movements were slowed by fatigue. "Yes, sir."

Simon just shook his head and sat down in Blair's chair, watching Jim sleep. It was going to be a long night, but it didn't seem to matter. They had gotten to Jim in time and he was going to survive. Not without some scars, Simon decided, and he wasn't just thinking of the physical ones.

He sighed and rolled his neck around. It was going to be a very long night.

11


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve **

Blair watched Jim closely as they sat in the outdoor seating of the restaurant. Jim's injuries had been extensive, but he was healing. The dark bruises that covered most of Jim's body was a visual testament to what Jim gad endured while held captive. But what bothered Blair more was the psychological damage Anna and Villanueva had caused. Jim still wasn't saying much about that.

They were on Jim's first outing since being released from the hospital. He had spent a week in the hospital and another week at home, but the walls were starting to close in on him, so Blair suggested going out to lunch. Blair had worked hard to help Jim, but he was walking a tightrope. Jim didn't want to talk about what had happened and Blair knew Jim well enough to know he had to talk before he could start healing.

Jim's nightmares were living proof that he was still being haunted by those grim memories. Even now, Jim was staring out into the street, lost in his thoughts. He finally moved and glanced back to Simon and Blair, as if noticing them for the first time. "You know, I don't need a police captain and an anthropology doctoral candidate to escort me around."

Blair leaned forward. "Who's escorting who? We're just having a nice lunch with friends. Look around, Jim. Inhale the air of this gorgeous spring day."

"Yeah, and pretty soon you'll have me tiptoeing through the tulips . . . "

Simon laughed. "I'd like a picture of that."

Jim turned toward Simon and made a face. The waiter came, interrupting their discussion. She handed them with their menus and left.

"Man, there are too many good things to eat at this place! What would you think if I ordered a couple entrees for myself?" Blair said with a laugh.

"I'd think you must have a fast metabolism to burn off those extra calories," Simon said as he shook his head and went back to his menu, but Jim didn't react, almost as if he had tuned them out somewhere in the conversation. Instead, he was staring off into space, once again lost in that time warp of his, still grieving for the newly dead and those long since departed.

Blair hesitated. He didn't want to crowd Jim. Some of the things Jim was dealing with had to be felt before they could return to their rightful place in the past, but Jim looked so alone, as if he didn't have a friend in the world, unable to realize he had two very close friends sitting right beside him.

Simon caught Blair's gaze and shook his head slightly. "Leave him alone," Simon mouthed.

Blair sighed. What Simon was asking him to do was very hard to obey. His gaze wandered to the street where a couple of city workers were climbing out of the manhole they'd been working on, waving to others down the street and shouting it was time for lunch. The group of men headed into a diner across the street.

Blair's mind would let go of Jim's situation. Maybe if Jim could get away for a bit, maybe that would help him let go of recent events. Not to be pushed into the back of his mind like he did with the Lima fiasco, but to give him a temporary break from the obsessive memories.

Their waiter came back to take their order and Blair had to disturb Jim's solitude to get his order. The interruption had pulled Jim back to the present, but the past still lingered in Jim's haunted expression. Geez, just how long would it take for Jim's heart to heal?

Broken bones, rope burns, cuts and abrasions, even dehydration could all be given an expected recovery time, but the human heart was something altogether different.

Blair felt a tapping on his arm and he looked to Simon. "Don't worry, Sandburg," he whispered, "Jim will be okay."

Blair's gaze darted to Jim, seeing that he had zoned out on them once more. Blair wished he possessed the same optimism that Simon had. Maybe it was watching Jim peel back the layers of his forgotten memories as they had come to light. It was almost as bad as watching someone eat broken glass. The experiences were hard to Blair to endure, but as bad as it was, Jim was the one walking through hell.

Ellison still hadn't spoken of his time as a prisoner, barely commenting on how his injuries occurred, but then again he didn't have to. The injuries themselves told a grim story of how they came to be. Blair pondered Jim's situation again, thinking back to Jim's earlier revelation. Without prodding, Jim had told Blair that his memories involving Lima had returned, and then he added, "So don't worry about me any more."

Like a simple statement would calm all of Blair's worries, concerns, and fears regarding Jim's physical and emotional health. Simon shot Blair a worried glance as several different attempts to draw Jim into conversation failed one after the other.

Finally, Simon was starting to show his own worry over Jim.

Their meal arrived a short time later and Jim was still out of it. He didn't see the food until Blair tapped him on the arm.

_I should have never agreed to come to lunch with them,_ Jim thought as he watched his two friends trying to get him to laugh or even to smile, but Jim's heart just wasn't into being cheered up.

People were dead because of him. Good people who didn't deserve to have their lives cut short the way it happened. Jim went to take a deep breath, but had to hold his ribs as they reminded him he still had to take it easy. Pushing away the pain, Jim's gaze returned to the street, oddly disturbed by a sense of deja vu. He flashed back to the outdoor café in Lima, Peru. Similarities began to crop up that made Jim's breath catch in his chest for another reason.

The restaurant they were at was packed with businessmen, shoppers, and families since it wasn't a school day for the children of the area. He heard Simon calling to him, but Jim didn't listen. Something was about to happen. Something terrible and chilling and . . .

His head whipped around to look into the street just as the pair of grenades fell under their table. Looking up, Jim saw Ramon standing on the street ten feet away from him, armed with more grenades and filled with such a hatred, it radiated from him in roiling waves.

"Grenade!" Jim shouted, "Get out of here now!"

There were screams in the background as panic struck the crowd, and soon there was a stampede of people vying for the exits. Babies were crying, jostled in their mother's arms as they ran for safety. Little children who didn't understand why they had to run were asking questions that went unanswered. Jim stood, staring at Ramon.

He took a step toward the street and Simon pulled on Jim's good arm, causing Jim to turn around. His gaze darted to the panicked crowd trying to flee the area before he resolved himself to what he had to do.

Not again, Jim told himself, it's not going to happen again.

"Simon, you and Blair clear out this area. There's someone I need to talk to."

Ignoring sore, stiff muscles and broken ribs, he bent down and grabbed both grenades. An internal time clock told him he had maybe three or four seconds before the grenades would go off.

He hopped over a wrought iron fence that stood about three feet high, separating the restaurant from the street, and whirled around to throw them into the open manhole cover he had noticed earlier as an image of Villanueva's son, Enrique Jr, flashed through his mind.

Back and forth, the current situation wrestled with the past and Jim finally understood why. Ramon was Enrique Villanueva Junior. Both appearances blended one onto the other, and the twelve-year-old boy became the twenty-year-old man standing before him.

"This ends now, Enrique!" Jim shouted and tossed the grenades he was holding into the open manhole beside Enrique. It was a perfect two-point shot. While Jim was distracted with the grenades, Enrique made a flying tackle, catching Jim in the chest and they rolled on the ground, wrestling with one another when the blast threw them further away.

Jim was close to passing out, but he looked to Villanueva as he knelt above him. "That's enough . . . Ramon . . . or Enrique Junior, or . . . whatever name you want to go by."

"So you know who I am. I am glad of it. A man should know the true name of the man who is about to kill him." Enrique Jr grabbed him by the throat and leaned closer as he asked, "Aren't you at all curious how I escaped the first time?"

Jim looked at him and then the manhole that was now in tatters. "That's how you did it."

Enrique tightened his hold on Jim's neck and began squeezing. "I have thought of nothing else but your death ever since you killed my father and my sister! And now it will come to pass!"

The edges of Jim's vision was fading to black when he heard Simon shout, "Stop right there, Ramon, or I'll blow you away. Believe me, after what you've put Jim through, I won't give it a second thought. Now, release Ellison and back away slowly."

Enrique grunted, but didn't stop as Jim's lungs starved for air. In the back of Jim's mind, he wondered if Enrique would succeed in killing him this time. He stopped wondering when Simon fired at Enrique Junior.

The young man was knocked back several feet and collapsed to the ground. One outstretched hand reached out in Jim's direction before it dropped to the ground.

4


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

Jim and Blair were fly fishing. Simon was down the river a bit, obviously enjoying himself as he led the pack in the number of caught fish. They were far away from the city and the physical distance, along with the pristine forest around them, made Jim's nightmarish experiences seem unreal, as if they never even happened.

Jim shook his head. There was no need to kid himself. People were dead because of what happened and there was nothing he could do about it. He needed to accept the events and move beyond them. Plus, there was the added concern that Enrique could surprise them at any moment.

Villanueva had escaped police custody while being transported from the hospital to the county jail awaiting his trial. The man's whereabouts was a loose thread that tore at the tapestry of Jim's well-being.

Jim turned to see Blair watching him closely. "Cut that out."

Blair was startled by Jim's reaction. "What? What did I do?"

"Eyeing me like I'm going to collapse any moment," Jim muttered.

"Well, you have been doing that a lot in the last month," Blair said as he cast out his line again.

"Yeah, but it's history now. I'm fine, so you can stop playing den mother."

Blair was quiet for a moment before he said, "Enrique is still on the loose, so you can't say it's all in the past."

"I'm sure he's long gone by now."

Blair grunted in reply and then began to reel in a fish. "I wish I was that sure. I mean, he's spent the last eight years hating your guts. That type of hatred just doesn't disappear overnight. In a way, I think it would have been better for you if he had died out on that street. At least you could have some real closure on the matter. Now, it's just . . . out there, like Ramon is."

Jim shrugged him off. "I'll deal with Enrique, when and if, the occasion arises."

Blair went silent as he grabbed a net for his fish. "I've got another one, Simon," he shouted.

Simon replied, "I'm still way ahead of you, Sandburg!" And then he burst into a laugh that spoke of gloating. Blair frowned and put his fish on his line of captured fish. Jim chuckled, glad somebody was catching the fish since he sure wasn't.

"Well, I think I'm going to start dinner since I'm low man on the totem pole when it comes to fishing today."

"Hold up, Jim." Sandburg followed him back to camp. "I know you don't want to talk about it, but I really think you need to talk about some of those things you experienced with Anna and Ramon . . . or Enrique, whatever. I think that needs to happen so your mind can process them into something that won't haunt you in the future."

Jim glanced over his shoulder at Blair and said, "I'm processing things just fine, Blair. Just because I don't like to talk a person's ear off like you do, doesn't mean I'm not working through it. We are two different men and the way we work out problems is different too."

Blair took in that information and was quiet as they reached their camp for the night.

"You may be right, Jim, but I certainly hope you will talk to someone if you need to."

Jim nodded, stirring up the low burning campfire. He was surprised to see Simon coming into the camp, smoking a cigar, with a broad smile on his face. "Wasn't that great fun?"

"For some of us more than others," Jim muttered.

"You're cooking tonight, Sandburg, so you better get to it. I'm starving," Simon said.

As Jim went to stand, he put a hand to his slowly healing ribs.

"Is it still bothering you, Jim," Simon asked.

"Sometimes, if I move the wrong way, but they're healing."

Blair opened the cooler with their food supplies and stared into it.

"Why are you trying to decide what's for dinner, Sandburg, when I'm holding our dinner in my hands?" Simon said with pride in his voice.

"Oh yeah, I guess that will work," Blair said, taking the fish from him. "You've got some real beauties there."

"Just a master at work."

"Are you a master at cleaning them too?" Jim quipped.

"No, that's for the chef to do."

"Great," Blair muttered.

Simon laughed and sat down on a rock. "This was a great idea, Blair."

"I come up with them occasionally."

Simon started ruffling through his backpack and came up with a letter. "Jim, this came for you at the precinct yesterday. I brought it with me and then forgot to give it to you. It's marked personal."

He handed a sealed envelope to Jim who took it and examined it closely. "No return address."

He carefully tore it open and found a get well card. When he opened the card and read the tightly written handwriting, he stiffened. There were only a few words, but the message was enough to freeze his soul, _"The chameleon fades back into its surroundings waiting for another time to move unnoticed."_

Glancing up, he saw his two good friends watching him closely. "It's from Ramon-I mean Enrique."

Simon stood. "What does it say?"

Jim handed him the card and got to his feet, feeling the need to pace a bit as Blair read over Simon's arm.

"I don't think he's done with you yet, Jim," Blair said finally.

"He's done as far as I'm concerned," Jim said, his jaw tight with tension.

"We will have to keep an eye open for him," Simon said, meeting Jim's gaze.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

He rubbed the back of his neck and when he glanced back, he saw Simon and Blair still watching him. "What? I'm not going to let the fear of Enrique's potential return ruin my life. I'm not! Dammit, this is my life and I will determine how I'm going to live it."

Blair walked over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "You're right, Jim. You can't live in fear, but you don't have to be foolhardy at the same time."

Jim started to walk away from his friends when Blair said, "Look, I know you are hurting, feeling guilty about the people who were murdered, but just remember, it's okay to close the door to your guilt, but don't close the door to your past, because it's a part of you. The good and the bad together make up the human psyche, and they are as distinct to the soul as fingerprints can be used to identify a person. It will always be a part of you."

"Even the beatings and the drugs?" Jim exclaimed, shaking his head as he took a few steps away from his friends. "I'd sure as hell like to forget that!"

Jim cringed as soon as the words came out of his mouth, revealing more of his inner rage than he wanted to share with his friends. It was something Jim had to work out for himself, not fodder for a group discussion.

Blair's expression went sad. "I know, Jim, I know you went through hell, but like I've been saying you need to talk-"

Jim spun around, not wanting hear any more theories about what he should or shouldn't do, and most definitely, not wanting to say more than he was prepared to say. "No, I need to go for a walk. I've got some things to work out . . . alone."

Almost as an afterthought, he added, "I'll be back before dinner's ready."

"You sure you don't want some company, Jim?" Simon asked as Jim started to leave.

"Maybe later, but not right now. Thanks anyway."

Jim headed back toward the river, letting his thoughts drift. When they came upon the incidents in Peru, they no longer held any power over him. They were just memories now. Memories that could safely return to the past where they belonged, but it was the memories of more recent events that still hurt. They were painful in the sense of lost friends and the abuse he'd received from Anna and Enrique.

Those incidents and the emotions surrounding them were strong, but there was much he still had to resolve. It helped to know his memory lapses involving his time with Anna and Enrique were from the drugs and the beatings he'd received, but little helped when he thought of potential reprisals from Enrique.

He sighed, thinking back to what he told Blair earlier. He'd deal with Enrique, when and if, it ever came to pass. Jim scooped up some small stones from the riverbank and tossed them into the slow-moving water. He thought about how he had dealt with his guilt back in Lima eight years ago and compared it to how he was dealing with it now. He wasn't the same man as he was back in Peru. He didn't need to keep everything bottled up inside of him without resolution.

His time in the jungles of Peru and as a cop had taught him much about life. In fact, he had grown quite a bit since the days of Lima. Maybe Blair was right. Maybe there was a way to close the door on his guilt without closing the door to his past.

All he knew was that he no longer lived in the past. He'd spent the last five years grabbing hold of life with all the gusto he could.He looked in the direction of their camp and smelled the fish cooking.

"Let the past stay in its grave," he whispered, thinking back to something one of the elders of the tribe Jim was with in Peru once said. That man was a wise old sage and Jim often listened to his wisdom.

"Let the past stay in its grave," he repeated, mulling over the words as he turned and started walking back. Dinner would be ready soon. And then there would the time spent sitting around the campfire with him dodging questions from Blair and Simon. That image in his mind wasn't very appealing at all.

He shook his head, chiding himself for giving Banks and Sandburg such a hard time just for caring about what happens to him. Hell, both of them have given him valuable counsel over the years. Maybe he should open up to them.

Jim leaned against a tree stump and considered the matter further. Talking about the abuse he'd suffered at the hands of his captors still felt too personal to share. At least, it did right now. The other stuff, the suppressed memories that came to light . . . maybe he could discuss that with his friends. In fact, it might be good to talk about some of those things.

Jim picked up a twig lying on the ground beside him and saw something small and reptilian scurry into the lush vegetation, quickly fading from view.

He stared at the spot where the creature disappeared. Enrique wanted him to believe he could fade away like that, but Jim wasn't buying into that idea. There were APBs and fliers that went out to law enforcement agencies across the country. Enrique was too smug to think he'd actually be caught. And that arrogance would lead to his downfall.

Until then, Jim would carry on with his life, perhaps a little more wary than before, but he wasn't about to let Villanueva haunt his existence any longer. It was time to get back to the business of living, he decided, as he began walking again.

_Good job, Jimbo. You're on the right track now._

Jim whirled around him before realizing he was still alone on the path. He rubbed the back of his neck, closing his eyes, trying to push the voice back into the inner recesses of his thoughts, but it didn't work and he wasn't so sure he wanted it to work.

Was it actually Kenny talking to him beyond the grave? Or was it some lingering side effect of the drugs? He paused, not knowing what to do. He sat down on a nearby rock and closed his eyes.

_Kenny, I don't know if you can hear me, but I'm so sorry about what happened to you. I never thought Anna would come after you. _He started to stand, almost losing his resolve thinking he would soon be a candidate for the looney bin.

Taking a deep breath, Jim sat back down and continued with his apology, _I want you to know you'll always cause the kind of warm memories that comes from a true friend. I want you to have peace...to move on and not stay with me. That's the name of the game these days. Moving on. Moving past. Just moving._

He paused, collecting his thoughts. _I want you to move on, because I want to move on, too, but not to push the memories aside like I did with Lima. It's something I'll have to work on, and eventually talk to someone about, but I'll never forget you, Kenny. Never. I just wanted you to know that._

Jim surprised himself by not being embarrassed at talking to a memory. Somehow, it felt right, like it was a necessary step in the grieving process. He stood, but didn't move. _Take it easy, Kenny, wherever you are._

There was a slight breeze and Jim turned into it just as he heard, _You take it easy too, good buddy. Keep on doing what you have to do and you'll be okay._

Something in Jim's heart was released and a solitary tear escaped down his cheek. He wiped at it as he considered what had just happened. Maybe Kenny was giving Jim his blessing and moving on like Jim had wanted. Or maybe it was all just imagined, but maybe, just maybe, it was his own way of saying goodbye to an old friend.

Whatever the reason, Jim felt freer than he had in weeks. He smiled sadly and started back on the path to their camp. After a few steps, he heard Blair and Simon arguing about something.

He stopped for a moment and smiled. No matter what, the dance of life continued on. Sometimes, it was simple, and sometimes it was a complicated ballet with players drifting in and out according to the dictates of fate.

No matter what the dance was to be for the day, Jim was ready to dive in with both feet, even if Blair and Simon argued too damned much.

**The End**

9


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